


The Last Rose Video

by Distractivate



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Banter, First Time, M/M, Rose Video, Slow Burn, What more do you want?, excessive use of movie quotes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-06-28 16:27:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 48,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19816090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Distractivate/pseuds/Distractivate
Summary: Unlike most of the people David was typically drawn to, Patrick’s edge wasn’t about high fashion or shitty manners or a twisted game of use or be used. Patrick’s edge was his mouth, the sharpness of his tongue. David would do pretty much anything at this point to see what else that tongue was capable of.A story about Patrick Brewer, who owns the last Rose Video franchise in the world, and David Rose, who has been sent to Schitt's Creek by his father to close the store for good. When David meets Patrick well... things do not go to plan.





	1. Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David has strong feelings about his first and last assignment as a consultant with Rose Corp, his father's business. Patrick has strong feelings about David. David, it turns out, also has strong feelings about Patrick. As per usual, feelings are really hard to talk about. It's probably safer to just assume the other person doesn't feel the same way. David makes a flannel-clad friend. Other Schitt's Creek townies make appearances. No animals are harmed in the constructing of puns. A high schooler gets the best of David. Certain store owners lack a certain level of taste when it comes to interior decorating, clothing, and movies. A writer makes their first foray into posting fan fiction.
> 
> Apologies for any inaccuracies about franchise operation. I did a little googling but... let's be honest, if you're looking to learn about franchise models, you know this is not the place.

**1\. You Had Me At Hello**

_(_ Dorothy Boyd _, Jerry Maguire)_

Patrick Brewer is the owner of the last Rose Video franchise in the world. He’s not sure why that gives him a little thrill. He should probably be embarrassed. Or at least a little sad for the Australian location that recently closed, effectively bestowing his little storefront in Schitt’s Creek with the title. The Rose Video corporate office, which is deep in liquidation negotiations, has long since stopped caring what he does with the place. Which is why he’s proud, he thinks. Because this Rose Video is one-of-a-kind, a product of his own inventiveness and forward-thinking, of his ability to read the writing on the wall when digital streaming started to hit profits and reimagine what the store could be without losing its essential core. His Rose Video was one-of-a-kind even before that was literally true.

He’s only met the Rose Family once, at a management retreat seven years before, when there were still enough managers to do that kind of thing. He was newly out of college and newly promoted to manager of store 785. And David Rose looks nothing like the young man he saw lurking around the social events and spa treatments at the retreat. But he knows, taking in the dark coif and graphically stripped blue and black suit, that it’s David Rose who has just walked into his store.

“Hi, welcome to Rose Video,” Patrick says, as though he were any other customer. The man looks startled to be spoken to and smiles tightly, nodding a hello as he removes a pair of white sunglasses with large flat rims. Patrick finishes shelving the three movies in his hands and then watches in fascination as David Rose takes in the store, his face reacting to each new detail. David has a large bag slung over his shoulder and he sets it down near the check-out counter without asking for permission. Patrick assumes he’s never asked permission in his life. Patrick knows he’s staring, but he can’t help it. David Rose is the most interesting man he’s ever seen, and he hasn’t even spoken yet. Patrick is interrupted by a customer looking for a movie recommendation, but even as he talks to the customer, he feels David moving around the store, watching him.

\-----

David has only been inside one or two Rose Videos in his life, and that was over a decade ago. His family got screeners for free so there was never much need. He understands immediately why this Rose Video is the last one standing. There’s an international chain on the signboard out front, but the rest of the place feels intimate, local. David can imagine perusing the shelves with a date. He can imagine people – not him obviously but lots of other people – enjoying curling up on the couch and playing on the Atari system in the corner, or gathering for the Open Mic Night he saw advertised on the poster coming in. It’s an escape, a haven. It’s not perfect. Clearly whoever decorated has a deficit in the taste department. But even though the paint color is incorrect and the furniture doesn’t quite fit the rest of the vibe and the signage inside is an odd combination of hand-lettering and Rose Video branding, there’s something about the place that just works.

The same is true of the owner, David thinks, watching him talk to a customer with a kind smile. David did the bare minimum of research and found a picture of Patrick Brewer in the company database. The picture must have been old because David was expecting a twenty-something kid with unruly, curly hair, not the man with the polite smile who’d greeted him on the way in. Sure, Patrick is wearing a vintage Rose Video uniform T-shirt from 1998 under an open blue-gray button down, sleeves rolled up exposing strong forearms. That look really shouldn’t appeal to David, or anyone else for that matter, but it somehow works on Patrick.

But David is planning to stay in Schitt’s Creek – god who voluntarily lives in a place with that name? – for twenty four hours tops, so he’d better get on with it. He waits until the two customers clear out and approaches Patrick, snagging a movie off the shelf in front of him with a last-minute plan forming.

“Ready to check out?” Patrick asks.

“No,” David says, sarcasm dripping. “I’m just admiring the very bold color of this countertop.”

“Ah, yes,” Patrick plays along. “It’s one of the Schitt’s Creek three must-see bucket list items. The tourists come to take a selfie with the sign, run their fingers along this very, very red countertop, and finish the tour at the café with a meadow harvest smoothie that is sure to send them home with dysentery as a souvenir.”

“Ah, I see. So perhaps I’ll skip the smoothie.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to talk you out of the trifecta completely. You should stop in just so you can say you’ve had the entire Schitt’s Creek experience. The pastries come from an outside baker, and they are usually a safe bet.”

“Okay. Thanks,” David replies, suppressing a grin.

Patrick starts to ring up the movie, taking a bit longer than strictly necessary.

“So, what brings you to Schitt’s Creek?” Patrick asks, because he’s unsure why David hasn’t introduced himself.

“Just here on business for the night.”

“Well, I’m Patrick,” he says. “Thank you for your business.”

David panics, looks down at the copy of _Jerry McGuire_ as Patrick scans it.

“Hi, Da- Dana Cruise,” he says. Oh god. “I’m a consultant with Cruise, Crowe and Associates. We’re doing a feasibility study.” _Fuck_ , David thinks. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._ Patrick looks down at the movie too as he’s removing the security bar and tries to stifle a grin. He does a terrible job of it.

“A feasibility study for what?” Patrick asks, because he just can’t let it lie, apparently.

“It’s confidential?” David says, except it's not supposed to be a question.

“Oh, okay,” Patrick says, his mouth pulled into a tight line. It doesn’t matter because the rest of his face is smiling like he’s just been given a gift. David should probably be irritated but he can’t muster it for some reason. For the first time he sees a glimmer of the twenty-something kid he was expecting.

“I’m sure you’ll hear about it in the next week or two,” David says, because apparently he’s a fucking idiot and can’t just let it lie either.

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Dana,” Patrick says. “By the way, we have a coupon right now, rent a romantic comedy, get a sports movie for free. Since this movie is sorta both, I’m happy to let you pick out a second in either genre.”

“Yeah, no thanks,” David clips, still trying to recover from his _nom de plume_ disaster. How is he going to do what he has to do now that he’s introduced himself as Dana Cruise conducting an apparently top secret feasibility study?

“Okay, well, it’s good for the rest of the month. Here’s your movie,” Patrick says, sliding it to the end of the counter on the other side of the security stanchion with a coupon sheet printed on lime green copy paper.

\-----

David returns from a conversation with the world's most unhelpful member of the hospitality industry in a huff. He still needs towels, and this god awful motel does not have a DVD player. The towels arrive a few minutes later with a post-it note attached.

"The free wifi is awful. If you use the office wifi with this code you can at least stream something," the brunette says as she hands over a stack of scratchy linens. He notices her name tag says Stevie.

"How generous of you," David says grouchily. 

"Please don't tell anyone," she says. "I try very hard to be unpleasant."

"Ah, well at that you are succeeding."

"I take that as the highest compliment. Good night, Mr. Rose."

David is about to say something snarky in return, but she's gone too quickly. He hates when someone gets the last word. 

David scrolls his feeds and determines the wifi is half-decent. He does want to watch _Jerry McGuire_ now that he’s worked it into his evening plans so he pulls it up to stream on his tablet. It’s been awhile since he watched it, but he’s struggling to pay attention. Watching Jerry's professional life crumble hits a little too close to home. Rose Video failed so quickly, and so spectacularly, that he knows his dad is worried. Johnny Rose has been liquidating assets and reinvesting to try to keep the family’s life intact, but David can see that it’s fraying around the edges. David doesn’t know how bad it is, but he can assume it’s bad, since he’s been sent to this terrible place with this terrible mission. There’s a buyer that is interested in purchasing what’s left of the Rose Corporation, the parent company that once oversaw the Rose Video empire. The buyer wants this last Rose Video gone before they close the sale. David is supposed to make that happen.

This is the first thing David has ever done for Rose Corp. He doesn’t have any interest in the family business, but after things blew up with his gallery and… he who shall not be named, he has no choice. Dad put the mansion on the auction block – they didn’t need two properties in New York, he said – and he and mom moved into the New York apartment, where David had been incidentally living alone. Normally David would just escape to one of their other properties, but everything except the Paris apartment is either sold or up for auction. The Paris apartment is being rented out as an – and David can hardly think it much less say it – AirBNB for some extra cash. David’s not sure his father should be dipping his toe into the hospitality sector at this point in life but as usual, nobody asked him. Even if Paris had been an option, David was nervous about being so far away when things seemed to be falling down around his parents. They weren’t a close family exactly, but David felt protective of them. Even Alexis, who normally bounced from one international adventure-crisis to another, had stayed closer to home and out of trouble lately.

He’d been angry but not surprised when a certain cocksure photographer told him who was financing the galleries. That had been just over a year ago. For the first time, he saw the way his relationships were ripping deep and festering wounds. He vowed to be pickier about the next person he offered himself to like that. He’s been with two people since then and neither one was better than his own hands in the shower, which seemed fitting. It was less messy in pretty much every way. So it had been a bit of a dry spell, but not an unwelcome one. He was content to bide his time for a change.

The direction his next professional step should take is less clear. He needs time to figure out that next step, and now he is worried about his father besides. Upon finding out that David had burned all the carefully constructed and paid for bridges at his gallery, Johnny Rose had issued an ultimatum. Go to Schitt’s Creek, get one Mr. Patrick Brewer to terminate his franchise agreement and give up the name so they could close the sale. If that didn’t work, find a way to shut him down. And if David wasn’t successful, Johnny was cutting him off. This family cannot afford to support thirty-year-olds who don’t contribute to the bottom line, he’d said. Honestly David doesn’t really want his parents’ support if what they actually offer is complete manipulation of his life. But he needs a little security for the next few months while he finds his own footing, searches for his own dream. And as angry as he is at his parents lately, he doesn't want to see their hard work turn to nothing.

He turns up the volume on the movie, hoping it will keep his attention. Tom Cruise and Renee Zellweger are at some kind of sporting event. David’s thoughts wander to Patrick. What the hell is he supposed to do now that Patrick thinks he is some consultant named Dana? And has probably surmised that his reason for being in town, his whole business even, is made up? And my god those eyes. And forearms. And lips. And he should really, really not be thinking about Patrick Brewer’s lips.

**2\. Always Be Closing**

(Blake, _Glengarry Glen Ross)_

David awakes to the sound of his phone vibrating on the small nightstand, managing to catch it before it slips off the edge.

“Yes,” he says, caller ID telling him it's his dad’s assistant.

“Mr. Rose, I’m confirming your three o’clock flight this afternoon.”

“Shit. Can you bump it back?” David says. He’d optimistically thought it would only take an hour or two to get the paperwork from Patrick Brewer. Not fucking likely now that he had to walk back the Dana situation. “Maybe end of the week,” he adds.

David has no idea what he is going to do for four days, but he suspects Patrick will put up a fight in any discussion of what is coming next for Patrick’s store.

He tries calling the front desk, but gets a busy signal. He’ll try again when he is out of the shower. He decides to stop in at the café for coffee, hoping he'll get some inspiration before he makes a second attempt at introducing himself to Rose Video’s owner-manager.

An hour later, showered and moisturized and hair in place, clad in a wool Givenchy suit, he's traipsing through the door to the motel office. He’s tried calling three times, interrupting his morning skin care routine, but the line is still busy. The office is empty, the phone receiver sitting off its cradle. He tries the bell on the counter. Broken. He places the phone back in its cradle and calls the number from his cell phone. It rings five times before Stevie comes running down the stairs. She stops when she sees him. He sort of likes Stevie, the dry as a desert woman who runs the motel, even if it did take four attempts to get clean towels the day before. She's the only person he’s ever met who pridefully wears her aloofness as an armor the same way he does.

“Your phone was off the hook,” he says without preamble. “I kept getting a busy signal. Shouldn’t you have it go to voicemail or something?”

“You have to give people hope that someone’s here,” she replies, unphased.

“I unfortunately need to extend my stay,” he pushes on.

“Oh, that’s interesting. Because yesterday I remember you saying the only way you would still be here Wednesday was if you were dead. Should I be worried for you?”

“Things did not exactly go to plan yesterday,” David responds.

“Okay. Because I’ve already had one person die in that room this year, and if I lose two guests I’m going to have to assume it’s cursed, and now is not a good time for me to have to organize a cleansing ritual.”

“When is it ever a good time for that? But let's circle back... Someone died in my room?” David asks, hovering between panicked and appalled.

“Never mind, I thought you were in Room 4, which I’m now realizing got two sets of extra towels yesterday,” she says, clicking her mouse with a scowl at her computer. “Room 7 is open the rest of the week. How long will I have the pleasure of serving you?” It is customer-service speak delivered with such acidity that David can only admire her.

“Checking out Saturday.”

“That’s too bad. You’ll miss our weekend social mixer.”

“Oh, is that held across from the fitness center?”

“We hold it right here, so people can enjoy the taxidermy.”

“Mmhmm, and the friendly staff.”

“Only the best for our guests.”

“I’m sure you’re joking but you should know that if I do end up having to stay until Saturday, I will be needing and expecting a stiff drink.”

“Things go well at Rose Video yesterday?” Stevie asks, an evil grin spreading across her face.

“How did you know I was at Rose Video?”

“I ran into Patrick at the café this morning. He said David Rose himself had paid him a visit. And apparently he brought a friend. Somebody named Dana Cruise?”

“Fuck,” David says, and then leaves without another word.

“Good luck with your feasibility study, Dana!” she calls after him.

\-----

David yanks on the door to Rose Video, having more or less finished the mental outline of the tirade he is about to unleash when he lays eyes on Patrick Brewer. The door holds fast, the bolt clanging in its housing. David examines the signage taped to the inside of the door. There is way too much of it, so that the important info like if they are open and what the hours are is crowded by posters for events and store promos, all of it garishly colored and competing for attention. He finds what he is looking for on a sign hanging from a cord just to the right of the door handle.

In the Rose Video corporate approved font and branding, it reads: "Rose Video is closed Tuesdays to allow our valued employees to spend quality time with their families."

Taped to the sign is a note in tidy block letters: “If you have a movie-related emergency that can be dealt with in five minutes or less, give me a call. I’m probably around. -P.B.”

Patrick’s phone number is scrawled below, and David saves it to his phone. Nothing weird about that. He might need it later to talk about the store, he reasons to himself. And anyway, it's posted above a sign for Tecmo Bowl Fantasy League, whatever that is, so its not like he is being sneaky. He looks around the intersection. There is a general store across the street, a very blue auto repair shop in the other direction, and a café on the corner across from the general store. All three look a little rough around the edges. Remembering what Patrick said about the bakery items at the café, and also that Stevie said she’d seen Patrick there, he decides to stop in before stomping back to the motel.

He orders coffee and a pastry and sits at a small table in the front. He is finishing up when Patrick comes in, moving a little faster than he did around the store. He is sweaty and dressed in running attire, including loose-fitting shorts and a blue t-shirt with a tall triangle of sweat darkening the fabric on his back from his waist up to the neckline. He's carrying a movie which he gives to the perky waitress at the counter.

“Thanks, Patrick,” she says. “My cousin’s wife forgot to stop in yesterday and he was pret-ty mad when he found out he wasn’t going to have _Glengarry Glen Ross_ for his realtor training session tonight. And trust me, you really don’t want to see him mad. My aunt says someone with his anger management issues probably shouldn’t be alone with people touring homes but-”

“I’m sure, Twyla,” Patrick interrupts deftly. “It’s no problem. I finished my run and it was on the way home.” David had assumed the movie-related emergency sign was a joke, but apparently in this dark, dark place it is a legitimate concern. Patrick turns as though he can feel David’s eyes on him. Their eyes meet and David tries and fails to look away before he is caught staring.

“Hi. Dana Cruise right?” Patrick says. Seeing the way he smiles, David has a hard time mustering the same angry energy that had propelled him to Rose Video just thirty minutes earlier.

“Actually it’s David Rose, which you apparently already knew,” David says.

“Did Stevie tell you?” he asks, seeming genuinely disappointed.

“Yes, because she’s a good person. Unlike you.” Patrick doesn’t care at all that he’s just been insulted. It’s sort of like he doesn’t take anything David says seriously, which is weird because at the same time he makes David feel like he’s being taken seriously for the first time in his life.

“I realized the minute I told her the story that I should have waited. I really wanted to see how this played out,” Patrick says, taping his fist against the counter and sucking his lips against his teeth.

“Well, it’s probably best she did,” David replies, grimacing.

“So what brings you to store B13?” Patrick asks.

“B13?” David says. “Yeah. Weird number from the early days when Carl owned it. They used to put a region prefix. We're in Region B. Rose Video, store B13.”

“Who’s Carl? You know what, never mind.” David says, shaking his hands with fingers outspread. “I need to sit down with you to talk about your franchise agreement.” _So I can get out of this town as soon as possible_ , David adds in his head.

“I know,” Patrick says, resigned.

“What do you mean you know? You just asked me what I was doing here.”

“Just seeing if you’re being honest with me yet,” he says, his grin flashing at David’s eye roll. “I got an email from someone who works for Rose Corp. saying you would be stopping by to discuss. I have all my files pulled in the office if you want to stop by later.”

“Um, okay,” David says, trying not to dwell on how stupid he is for not realizing someone would notify Patrick of his visit ahead of time. He has the rest of the day to wallow alone in his stupidity.

“What time are you going to stop by? Because if Bob sees me in there he’s going to want to come play Nintendo, and then it’ll be a whole thing.”

“How about two.”

“Sure. I’ll prop the back door open. Just let yourself in.”

“Okay.”

They stand awkwardly for a minute. David’s done, and presumably so is Patrick since he just came to drop off a video, but David doesn’t want to be walking out with him. What if they decide to go over now and he has to spend the afternoon with Patrick smelling salty and warm with a trail of sweat pointing to his ass. It’s a nice ass, is all, and David doesn’t want to be distracted.

“Well, see you then,” David says, rising quickly in hopes he can put a stop to this line of thinking.

He’s in such a rush on his way out that he nearly collides with a tall man who would be very handsome if he didn’t look like a stick of gum in head-to-toe scrubs.

“Whoa, big guy, you okay,” the man asks, steadying David with a hand to the elbow.

“I’m fine,” David huffs, pushing open the door. He’s not fine. He’s in way over his head, literally up Schitt’s Creek, and now he has three hours to figure out how he’s going to tell this intriguing man that one way or another, his store is closing.

**3\. A Team is Something You Belong To, Something You Feel**

(Gordon Bombay, _The Mighty Ducks_ )

Patrick tidies up a bit. It doesn’t take much – he’s fairly organized by nature and tidiness is the natural extension of that. But it seems like a good idea to take care of the dust bunnies hiding in office corners and wipe the fingerprints off the monitor. He’d pulled everything he thought David might need, and put a bunch of files on a USB drive just in case. The email he received told him David would be coming to make a review of the facilities for compliance with the franchise agreement, something that was typically done twice a year but hasn’t been done at all since Patrick took over management two years earlier. Patrick knows if they’re coming now, sending the son of the company president no less, that this is not a normal visit. Something is up. Something that probably has to do with their liquidation negotiations. So Patrick doesn’t understand why, when he thinks of David Rose, he feels like his body temperature raises ten degrees.

Quickly boxing up that unwelcome thought, he scans his eyes around the back room and office, looking for things that might need addressing. It’s utilitarian but clean. There’s a multi-purpose counter over cabinets with the same awful watermelon red laminate color that they used on the counter in front. A smattering of office supplies is neatly organized into trays in one corner of the countertop. There’s a set of lockers near the door, which are mostly empty these days. The largest square footage of the room is used for storage. There are six extra display racks and a number of miscellaneous pieces that allow him to change out the store’s shelves and storage racks. They crowd the corner like a wire jungle. Patrick sees with irritation that Connor, one of the high schoolers who works for him on the weekend, has forgotten his coat draped over the racks.

Patrick makes a mental note that he needs to repair the coat hook next to the lockers. Connor is always wearing interesting homemade cloaks and vests with metal and fur and god knows what else, and last week one of them was so heavy it pulled the hook right out of the wall. Connor isn’t the world’s best employee – he can be condescending with the customers and doesn’t always show up on time – but Patrick has a soft spot for the opinionated kid who makes his own versions of high fashion clothes. Patrick is jealous of how well he knows himself at just sixteen years old, at the comfort he already takes in his own skin. It took Patrick thirty years to get there, and he’s still got a ways to go.

The other corner of the room consists of a small employee break area, which is really a leaning wood table and four plastic chairs next to a small refrigerator with a microwave on top and a sink tucked into more red laminate cabinets. Patrick straightens the chairs and stuffs a folded coupon flyer from the previous month under the far table leg, restoring the surface to level. Next he locates the remote to the small TV mounted in the corner and turns it on, flipping it to the baseball game. David is going to need some time in the office and Patrick isn’t sure he can handle being shut in there with him. He sets his laptop up on the table so he can work out here while David’s doing whatever David’s here to do.

\-----

David walks back to the store from the motel, texting his dad’s assistant about the possibility of getting a rental car. He’s running a couple minutes late which is pretty good for him. When he looked at the town on Google Maps before his trip, it seemed like he could cross from one end to the other in the same amount of time it takes him to walk one Manhattan block. It is a manageable walk, but when he factors in that half the roads are gravel, getting dust all over his Rick Owens shoes, and the dump pile with a stained mattress along the route, walking any distance sort of loses its appeal.

David’s in a bad mood and he knows it. He has no interest in putting on a show by perusing spreadsheets and rifling through business documents. He’s irritated that he’s here, still, trying to accomplish something that feels… wrong, honestly, and something that he’s clearly not qualified to do. What choice does he have? Everything his family has left is hanging on the sale of Rose Corp., and the sale of Rose Corp. is dependent on eliminating this last Rose Video from its inventory. The buyer is interested in the other investments his dad has made along the way and has no interest in managing a failing retail franchise with one outlet remaining. Divesting in this store is the final contingency of the sale.

David feels like he has no choice but to see this through, to figure it out. Which is obviously why his dad sent him on this mission. Johnny Rose carries the weight of all those employees that have been laid off over the years. David suspects he can’t bring himself to oversee the execution of this last store, the final fragment of his empire. Sending David, who experience has shown will bitch royally the whole time but do literally anything for his family, is his way of making it happen. It’s usually David’s mother and sister who need saving, and David’s not sure what he thinks now that his father has decided to take advantage of this personality flaw too. He arrives at the back door, which Patrick has left propped open just as he said he would, using an old VHS tape. The tape makes him smile for the first time since he left the café earlier that day. He takes a deep breath, trying to clear his mood. He can be persuasive and charming when he wants to be. So he will be. He hopes.

Patrick is standing with his back to him, leaning with his hands on a worn wood table, hands clenched as he watches some kind of sporting event. It’s hard not to appreciate the tension in his back, the way his shirt pulls across his shoulders.

“Get your eyes checked, Ump,” he growls. “That’s the third ball you’ve called a strike this inning.” To David's relief, Patrick has changed into his standard button-down shirt. This one is darker blue and tucked into his jeans which are belted and stretched over his-

And no. David is a professional, and he has a job to do here. So he’s going to give himself just one more minute to appreciate Patrick’s backside before he lets him know he’s here.

Patrick senses him anyway, turning around seconds later.

“Hi,” David says softly, feeling shy.

“Hi,” Patrick says equally soft, grinning like he somehow knows David’s been checking him out.

“You said you have some papers for me?” David asks, switching his bag to his other hand.

“I do,” Patrick says. “I set up everything in the office.”

Patrick leads him through a door off the back room to a small office. The walls are mercifully a neutral gray instead of the obnoxious green of the main store or the sickly off-white of the back room, and David feels himself relax the second he sets foot inside. That feeling is quickly replaced by a low hum of energy as Patrick places a hand on his back, squeezing past him to get to a stack of file folders.

“It’s kind of tight in here,” Patrick says by way of explanation, although David notes he doesn’t move his hand as quickly as one might expect. “Anyway, here’s the stuff they said you’d want to see. I also put a bunch of stuff on a USB drive for you. I don’t know if you have a laptop of if you want to use the desktop, but the password is right there.” Patrick points to a post-it with a fifteen digit array of nonsensical characters, letters and numbers.

“Music?” David asks.

“Well, if you’re up for an adventure, there’s this guy,” Patrick says, gesturing to a record player.

“I’m sorry, are you a sixty-year-old man?” David asks.

“You can’t beat the sound," Patrick replies with a shrug. "And besides, people are saying that vinyl is trendy again.”

“Well you would know about trendy,” David says with a soft bite in his tone, and Patrick flashes one of his quick teeth-revealing grins, which is starting to feel like a reward David will do anything to earn.

“Anyway, you can also hook up your phone to the store sound system if you want,” Patrick says, showing him a jack and a cable. You can’t hear it that well back here, but you can leave the doors open to the store and it comes through okay.”

“Okay,” David says. It was a long explanation of the music options. David wonders if there’s anything else that will keep Patrick in the office for a bit, explaining and shifting around David with lingering touches as he points out the options.

“I keep my books a little differently,” Patrick says, like he’s not sure he should. “It’s just more efficient for me and nobody at Rose Corp is tracking the metrics like they used to. Let me know if you need me to answer questions or rearrange anything.”

“It will cost you a gold star, but I think I can figure it out,” David says.

“Not a gold star. I hope I can earn it back somehow,” Patrick plays along.

“Me too. You don’t want to know what happens when you run out of stars.”

“I imagine it’s horrifying,” Patrick says with mock trepidation. “Anyway, I’ll let you get to it,” Patrick stands there, clasping his hands a touch nervously. And then he’s sliding past David again out the door, a hand just above his hip and _ohmyfuckinggod_ does David want Patrick to touch him there again.

David sifts through the files Patrick has left. On top is an email from his dad’s assistant. There is a blue highlighter over the date and time David is expected to arrive (which confirms he likely knew Dana’s identity from the start and played along, the little shit) and a few items Patrick should know about the visit. The email print-out also has a list of all the files the sender thinks David will want to see, and Patrick has made little square check-boxes next to them and checked them off. David knows the stack of papers and files is going to be in the same order as the list. He just knows. The whole thing is so fucking adorable, and David realizes, looking at that stupid list with checkboxes and the blue highlighter that there is no way he is swindling this man out of his store without one hell of a win-win solution. Rose family fortune be damned.

An hour passes, and David is starting to feel like he needs to move. He stands up and stretches his hands down to the floor. He squats a few times. He reaches up and bangs them on a small light-fixture.

“Shit!” he says, righting the shade before it teeters crookedly off its support. “Everything okay?” Patrick calls from the break room.

“Yep. Just redecorating,” David jokes.

“That light is a menace,” Patrick jokes back. David wonders how he knows what happened.

David settles back in at the desk. He plugs the USB drive into the computer and turns it on, typing in the password. He resists the urge to go poking around in Patrick’s internet browser history in hopes of finding… he’s not sure what exactly. Some clue as to what Patrick’s preferences are, something more about who he is. He’s not one who generally holds privacy sacred – he’s given his own away for almost nothing – but it feels different with Patrick. Trust seems to be his default mode. David doesn’t want to break it right out of the gate.

He opens a spreadsheet labeled simply “Budget.” _I keep my books a little differently_ , Patrick had said. David’s not sure exactly what that means. He doesn’t need to know what they say really to respect the way they’re put together. This man keeps business records the way David keeps a skin care regimen: meticulous, precise, and attentive to the finest details. He has a series of complicated formulas that have synthesized information down to a few easy-to-read summary charts and graphs. David’s impressed to see the store has been solidly in the black, impressed that he can understand enough of what he’s looking at to see that. In the budget spreadsheet, Patrick has several linked files about non-routine purchase and expenses. Patrick has a fucking pro-and-con list for most of them. David is pleased to see that repainting has been added to the list of projects for when funding is available, which gives him some hope that Patrick didn’t pick the current color.

On a few documents, Patrick has hand-written additional information. David knows the importance of the perfect font, and Patrick’s handwriting is nearly it. His letters are neatly aligned, with equal spacing and uniform size, with a small slant to the left. His signature, which is copied at the bottom of a special event permit, is equally neat, like someone somewhere required him to make every letter legible and he’s never gotten lazy about it since. It’s a far cry from David’s scrawl, of which the D and the R are the only recognizable shapes.

After another hour, his eyes are getting tired. He realizes he’s spent most of the time thinking about Patrick, studying Patrick’s methods and thought processes, instead of looking for something that will help him accomplish his ultimate goal. He feels a little immersed in Patrick, actually, which is helped by the fact that the office smells like him. It’s a woody smell. Cedar, or maybe eucalyptus, and just a touch of cocoa powder. David adores the smell of cocoa powder. He puts a sprinkle in his coffee every morning, just for the smell. The scents shouldn’t really go together, but like everything else about Patrick, they work. He stands up, stretching his hands over his head, careful of the light this time.

Patrick appears and David drops his hands, hoping his belly hasn’t been poking out while his hands are in the air. Whatever Patrick was going to say has temporarily left him, and he just smiles softly.

“Hey,” David says, stifling a yawn.

“It’s a page turner, right?” Patrick asks.

“Mmhmm,” David says, pressing down on a grin. Why was he so smiley all of the sudden?

“I’m going to get a pizza. Does that sound okay?”

“Always.” David makes no effort to hide his enthusiasm for pizza, which earns him another of Patrick’s swift grins.

“The only good pizza is in Elmdale, so I’ll be back in about an hour. Any toppings a deal-breaker for you?” _How can anyone live in a place where good pizza is an hour round trip?_ David wonders.

“No fruit,” David says. “Unless it’s a dessert pizza, in which case fruit is very much acceptable.”

“Appetizer? They have good breadsticks.”

“Yes please.” Patrick smiles and nods.

“Here,” David says, reaching for his wallet to fish out some cash.

“You can get the next one,” Patrick says, then disappears. David isn’t sure what to make of that. He hears the back door close and rubs his face in his hands.

Knowing Patrick is out for a while, David takes a look around the office. There’s a small vented cabinet that has the store’s A/V system. The record player is on top, and three crates of records sit next to it, turned on their sides so the spines of the records are facing out. David wants to see what kind of music he has but he doesn’t want to be disappointed if it’s something terrible, like country or bluegrass, so he resists the urge to look. On the back wall is a small loveseat that looks like its seen better days. Really it’s like a chair-and-a-half and small as it is it takes up a quarter of the room. Above it is a framed, signed movie poster for _The Mighty Ducks_ which is sort of a what-the-fuck. There are bed pillows on the couch, like maybe Patrick sleeps here sometimes, which seems like a weird choice when his own bed must be at most a five minute drive. And thinking of Patrick’s bed makes David’s unhelpful brain suggest that maybe the couch is used for mid-day activities for which a soft surface is desirable but a trip home would be inconvenient.

That makes him wonder if Patrick is seeing anyone, and he looks around at the pictures scattered about the office in a mishmash of frame styles, each frame worse than the one before. There’s a picture of him with two people who must be his parents, judging from the resemblance. They are clearly posed for a more formal picture but in this one they’re sharing matching smirks, like they’re trying not to laugh at something. There’s a picture of him in a tux with three other similarly dressed men. Judging by the context, they’re getting ready for a wedding, ties still undone. David can pick out the groom. He looks like Patrick but is taller with lighter eyes and hair. Patrick’s hair is longer than he wears it now, with actual fucking curls on top, and damn David wants to contrive some reason to get him in a tux. There’s another picture with a few people David’s met around town. They’re sitting on the bank of a creek in swimwear, wet and muddy and smiling like they know what friendship is. Patrick’s shirt is off and balled up on his lap, so David can’t really see much except for one very nice arm resting on the shirt. His other arm is around a man sitting between Patrick and the waitress who works at the café. He has a full, dark beard and a six plus pack. He’s handsome in a homeless lumberjack sort of way. The girl on the other side of Patrick is smiling and leaning towards him, her hand circling his forearm. She’s pretty, with red hair and a nice smile. David wonders if they’re more than friends. Wonders if that’s Patrick’s type. Wonders why Patrick looks to be leaning away from this girl possessively gripping his forearm. He doesn’t see any more pictures of either the girl or the bearded man around the office, nothing that makes it clear if he’s involved with either of them or anyone else.

He moves onto the next picture, which has more familiar faces. They’re wearing matching white and dark green baseball jerseys with Café Tropical’s logo on them. The team looks sweaty and happy, arms flung around each other. Patrick is being hoisted in the air but the photo is taken mid-hoist, and everyone looks like they’re caught laughing at the awkward in-between. David notes that Patrick looks very good in the snug white pants. There’s a picture of a younger Patrick, this time with a full mop of curly hair, with an older man. They’re both wearing Rose Video uniform shirts and name tags, and the older man’s says Carl.

David does a double-take at the next photo. It’s not black and white, but faded, and the saturation is off, like it’s taken in that odd sharp light reserved only for the seventies. Johnny Rose, with a fuzzy halo of hair, stands next to the man, Carl, from the other photo with Patrick. They’re both wearing brown suits with bellbottoms and wide lapels. Johnny’s suit can only be described as mud-colored. Carl’s has more gold in it, so it looks almost like caramel. David think’s his dad’s shirt is pink – it’s tough to tell with the color fading – and it definitely has ruffles up the front. David recognizes the ’78 Lincoln his parents always used to talk about on the edge of the frame, which gives him an idea of how old the photo is. He can’t help but smile. He realizes it’s the first time he’s felt anything but resentment, betrayal, or frustration towards his father since he found out about the gallery fiasco and got sent on this fucking hit job. He takes the frame and looks at it closer. They’re standing in front of this very store, shaking hands and grinning. His Dad looks awful – it was before he let David make a few suggestions about his wardrobe and hair and skin care regimen – but he has a kind of indominable optimism that David hasn’t seen in a long time. These days, Johnny Rose is just trying to keep enough of his empire together to fund his own retirement and clad Moira Rose in designer fashion.

\-----

Patrick locks his car and carries the pizza around back. The sun is starting to set, and it’s at the point where it makes the red neon of the Rose Video sign look like it’s glowing before it’s even turned on. He pauses to take it in, knowing that there’s a good chance this place won’t be his by the time David finishes whatever he’s here to do. Patrick took over this Rose Video on a whim. It was an escape from a life that was drowning him. He never expected to be here two years later, fighting for its life. He pulls out his phone and snaps a picture, just in case he’s working on borrowed time.

“Pizza’s here,” he says when he passes the back office. “Good. I’m starving,” David says. He’s scrolling through his phone, having reached a good stopping point a few minutes before.

“I’ve got plates and napkins in that drawer,” Patrick says, nodding towards the red cabinets once David has joined him in the back room.

David digs up the plates and utensils. He opens the fridge and is pleased to find it stocked with water bottles. He grabs his own and holds up a second. Patrick nods. They set up dinner like they’ve done this a hundred times before.

The pizza is mushroom and sausage and onion and peppers and it’s one of the best pizzas David has ever had outside of New York. It’s definitely worth the drive. He moans on the first bite without realizing it’s happening. Patrick pauses mid-bite and smiles at him, pizza half-in and half-out of that fucking grin.

“Glad you like the pizza,” Patrick says because apparently he just can’t let anything fucking go.

“So what’s it like growing up in Schitt’s Creek?” David asks, deciding to change the topic rather than admit his very deep feelings for a well-made pie.

“I wouldn’t know. I grew up in Hawthorne Ridge, about five hours from here. I’ve only been here two years.”

“I’m sorry, let me just make sure I understand. You, as a successful adult, decided to move to a town called Schitt’s Creek, where they apparently keep spare rat-infested mattresses permanently available on the side of the road, to take over a failing video rental establishment, entirely by choice?”

“Yep,” Patrick says, shrugging and taking another bite of pizza.

“And why is that?” David asks, baffled. He’d assumed the only reason someone like Patrick could be at ease here is because he didn’t know anything else.

“I’m not sure we have enough time for that tonight,” Patrick dodges ruefully, taking a swig of his water. David, well acquainted with the quagmire that was Things From the Past, lets him dodge away.

“So why a video store?” David asks. He genuinely wants to know and hopes it is an acceptable topic.

“I like them,” Patrick says, matter-of-factly. “I used to work at store 785 when I was in high school and then I managed store 8122 in college. I wish they were still around more places.” Patrick shrugs with a small smile like he knows that doesn't really explain it to someone from David's world.

“If only there was a service where the movies would just come right to your living room as though transported by air,” David says.

“It’s not the same,” Patrick says, and David can just tell he is about to mount a soapbox. “There’s something about wandering the racks of a video store with someone. There’s something about that physical action of watching a date or a friend reach for a movie. It’s not like a Netflix account. You can’t trust a streaming queue. It’s too vulnerable to cultural infiltration, to the 'you should watch' and 'haven't you seen.' It’s all about what someone else has told you you’ll like. When you’re walking through a store between racks of forgotten movies, you can see the person you’re with respond in real time. If it’s someone you’re dating, you can learn what they’re drawn to, what kind of mood they’re in. You find out their likes, dislikes, their quirks, sometimes even their kinks.” David doesn’t miss the blush at that. “You can make excuses to touch, to get close. It’s an experience. The choice is irrelevant. It’s the process of making that choice without just a scroll and a click. It’s the process of making the choice that I’m trying to preserve here.”

“Hmm,” David says, chewing on his pizza, giving it some thought. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.” It’s the first time he’s said something to Patrick – other than the whole Dana debacle – that’s just what it means, not coated in disdain or sarcasm or lost in his own self-pity. Patrick responds with his own smile that’s genuine, not teasing. There’s a beat where the mood shifts. It feels pleasantly warm.

“What about the arcade games and video games?” David asks, because he’s not quite ready to deal with whatever that mood change means.

“Well that was sort of an accident. Carl used to own the place. He hired me to take over running it and then when he died, he left it to me. He was Bob’s brother, who owns the garage?” David shakes his head. He doesn’t know Bob, and probably doesn’t want to. A garage sounds messy, greasy. “Anyway he had a bunch of gaming consoles, pinball machines, stuff he’d been collecting over the years, hoping to refurbish them. Bob asked if I wanted them. I just had them in the store at first. They weren't working. And then we’d get tourists in – they come to town to take selfies with the sign and suddenly they’re drooling over this old stuff. It seemed like if I could get it working I could get people to stick around, maybe pay money for snacks and drinks. I get a great margin on that stuff and don’t have to pay any percentage back to Rose Video, so selling it really helps the bottom line. Anyway, I found somebody in Elm Valley who repairs this kind of stuff and he fixed the two out there now. There’s five more still at Bob’s that he’ll repair when I can afford it.”

“And the events?” David asks. He didn’t think he really cared, but there is something about watching Patrick talk about his business. His eyes are bright, his motions carrying an energy that is intoxicating. David wants to keep him talking.

“Seemed like a good way to drive traffic, make some money for the store. I started with an Open Mike Night, and now we do other events too. Even had a wedding in the parking lot for a couple of movie buffs last year.”

“Oh my god, every part of that makes me sick,” David gasps, making Patrick laugh.

“What about you, David. Last I heard you were running a gallery or something. How did you come to work for Rose Corp?”

“I’m a consultant, actually. And I’m not sure we have time for that,” David says, getting a small smile and a nod from Patrick.

“Okay.”

“I’m just doing my dad a favor,” David says, twisting his mouth to the side and trying not to look as sad about it as he feels.

“A favor?” Patrick asks. And because Patrick’s brown eyes just seem to suck the truth right out of David, he continues.

“Rose Corp. has a buyer. The buyer needs us to divest of the retail side.” David hopes to god he is using the appropriate business speak.

“Ah. I figured it was something like that.”

“I’m sorry,” David says. “I’m just the messenger.”

“I thought you were a consultant,” Patrick ribs, but the teasing is tinged with something a little more reflective. “Look, it’s getting late. I’m off early on Fridays so we can meet then and see if there’s any compromise to be made. That will give us both some time to think it over and you can do whatever you need to finish with the reports. You’re welcome to come by anytime we’re open and use the files or the computer.”

“Ooh, I have a flight booked for Thursday,” David lies, trying to hurry things along.

“I know my rights, here, David,” Patrick says carefully. “This is one of the first stores. The franchise agreement wasn’t written the way the newer stores are. They were trying to branch out, acquire independent stores, and they made some concessions. I have a lot of rights. I need some time with this.”

“Okay,” David sighs. He’ll call the office and have his flight moved. Again.

“Okay,” Patrick echoes. The mood shifts again, this time without the pleasant buzz of attraction and anticipation.

“Let’s talk about it Friday,” David agrees. He can probably use the time to figure out what the hell he is going to do about all this.

“I’m off at four.” Patrick says. “We’ll talk then.”

**4\. I Like You Very Much, Just As You Are**

(Mark Darcy, _Bridget Jones Diary_ )

“Everything okay?” Patrick asks when David growls at Ms. Pac-Man for the second time in as many minutes.

“Um, it’s just that I think something’s wrong with this machine,” David says, waving a hand with palm stretched open towards the arcade game. “I’ve been playing for three hours, and I can’t even get past level two.”

“Hm, maybe I should take a look,” Patrick says, pretending to be far more concerned than he is. He’s been wiping down the shelves nearby for almost as long as David’s been playing, except for when a customer needs his help. The shelves are very clean by now, but it’s fun watching the ghosts get the best of David over and over again and it doesn’t seem like David has noticed Patrick’s hovering.

“I think I have it under control. Thanks so much,” David says, pushing restart and diving back into the fray.

“Oh, okay,” Patrick says, grinning openly at his back.

It’s Thursday and David’s been finding reasons to come by the store three or four times a day. At first he said he needed more time with the spreadsheets, although he seemed to sense pretty quickly that Patrick noticed he wasn’t really looking at them. Then he said he should spend some time in the store itself, observing the day-to-day. So he did, and they’d talked at length about how sports movies were the same story played out on different substrates (David’s opinion) and how romantic comedies were just the same perfect people having endearing miscommunications in slightly varied situations (Patrick’s opinion). They challenged each other to pick a movie that proved the other one wrong. Patrick is pretty sure they won't actually have the movie night, but it was fun thinking about which one he might pick. Patrick also pointed out that the first movie David rented, _Jerry Maguire_ , had in fact been a sports movie and David pointed out that it was most definitely not, as the central conflict did not occur on the actual football court (football field, Patrick corrected gently), to which Patrick pointed out that the same was true for most sports movies, which is what made them so great, that the sports merely provides the setting and that saying you don’t like sports movies is like saying you don’t like beach movies. David thought this was a strange opinion from someone who has literally grouped them in a section of the store, and Patrick pointed out that it just makes sense since they’re some of the most popular rentals. They should be together near the front where they’re easily found. Patrick doesn’t tell David that romances are actually the most-rented genre. David left the store for a bit, appearing to accept defeat, and then marched back in two hours later as though he’d been gone just seconds.

“If it’s acceptable to have forty movies about cricket then I don’t see why it should matter that all the best romantic comedies have Sandra Bullock. There’s comfort in repetition. Also, I seem to remember that according to your own spreadsheet, romances were the most-frequently rented genre here!" 

Patrick had tried very hard not to think about what it might be like to kiss that self-satisfied smirk right off his face.

“Even I wouldn’t watch forty movies about cricket, David,” Patrick had replied calmly.

“Crickets are actually really cool. Did you know that you can count the number of cricket chirps per minute and actually guess the correct air temperature?” Ted said from two aisles over where he was trying to find a movie he hadn’t rented yet. Ted came in almost every Thursday over his lunch break to pick a movie for the group of seniors that he visited regularly, apparently out of the goodness of his heart. “But hey, if it wouldn’t... bug you too much,” Ted added, drawing out the pun, “Do you think you can help me pick a romantic comedy. I was thinking maybe _Love Actually_. Marge and Debbie love Hugh Grant.”

“Obviously.” David said. Even though Ted had asked Patrick, David stepped in. Which figures, because Ted is like goes-to-the-gym hot. Straight as an arrow, but still. Hot.

“But actually _Love Actually_ may not be your best choice. Apart from being a Christmas movie in the summer which is just incorrect, it should really be called 'Lust Actually.' Or maybe 'Men Take Advantage of Women Who Work For Them.' But never fear, there are other Hugh Grant vehicles to pick from. Personally I’m partial to Colin Firth. There’s just something very sexy about a steady, decent man, you know?” David had handed Ted _Bridget Jones Diary_ and gave Patrick a not-so-subtle wink that very nearly tipped over the line they had wordlessly established between gentle ribbing and outright flirting. “With this one, you still get them both and it’s much more romantic.”

The whole thing had been a little bit of a worlds collide moment for Patrick. Ted had been the first person he knew personally who made him sure, without doubt, that he was gay. It hadn’t been a crush really – Ted was obviously interested in women, and Patrick was not interested in being peppered with puns – but it was the first time his body had responded physically to someone he knew personally and he’d let it, acknowledged it. Ted was giving David the same good-natured charm he gave everyone, but it was David who had Patrick’s attention now.

Patrick feels like ever since David arrived in Schitt’s Creek, his world tipped ten degrees to the left. Or maybe his world straightened out from a tilt he’d lived with his whole life and never noticed. No, it’s definitely not straightening out, Patrick thinks, watching David talk to Ms. Pac-Man like she’s been a very bad girl. Obviously, nothing about Patrick is straight. But that’s never felt all-encompassing until now. Sometime between breaking up with Rachel for the last time and David walking into his store on Monday, Patrick had accepted his sexuality. It wasn’t that he was unsure or confused. But it was one thing to make a passive study of men at the gym or in the grocery check-out line and finally admit openly, that _yeah, okay, that works for me_. It was another thing entirely to feel David’s hand brush against his as he handed over his rental on the door side of the security stanchions. To feel David’s breath against his ear when he asked a question about something in a spreadsheet as they crowded in his office. To see David smile without immediately twisting it off and then get lost thinking about what might bring about that full-on smile again. David was maybe not masculine in the traditional sense. But he was unquestionably, mouthwateringly _male_ , and Patrick wanted him.

And then there was the problem of what the hell to do about it. Several weeks back, he’d gone to Thornbridge to pick up a load of DVDs from a library that was getting rid of their extra stock. Thornbridge was home to the closest gay bar, so he’d looked it up, driven by, and eventually gone in. It was a heady thing, to openly check guys out for the first time – and to be checked out – without filing away any ensuing feelings under a label of “Too Complicated.” Despite some promising encounters, he’d come back home with a few numbers but nothing else, not even an innocent kiss. Patrick wasn’t sure what he’d been hoping for. He’d spent the rest of the drive to Schitt’s Creek trying to figure out why he couldn’t bring himself to follow someone into a dark corner or accept an invitation to get some fresh air. As far as he could tell, Patrick didn’t just want men. He wanted a man. Someone he could connect with. That’s why it had sort of worked with Rachel all those years. In almost every way, they’d had a real connection, very nearly a fulfilling one. Patrick needed that connection, hopefully this time coupled with some attraction.

There was a connection with David. An undeniable attraction too. More than Patrick knew was possible on either front, almost more than he could take once he realized the two pieces were twisting and combining into bone-deep need. Patrick was usually a take-charge guy, and if he were months into accepting this fundamental piece of himself instead of weeks, he might have asked David to dinner yesterday. Or today. But all of this is so new, and he is so very nervous, and David is…. Well he is starting to think he can spend a lifetime figuring out all that David is.

“I’m out,” David says, throwing up his hands and bringing Patrick back to the present. “This evil machine has eaten my last quarter and I feel like it’s laughing at me at this point. I will not stand here and be mocked by outdated computer technology.”

Patrick just laughs. He can’t help it. David is a lot, that much is clear. Which is fine, great even, because Patrick wants as much as he can get.

“Excuse me, are you mocking me now too?” David says, placing a hand on his hip and tipping it outwards.

“Here,” Patrick says, fishing a quarter out of his pocket. “I’ll show you how to pass the level.” Patrick puts down his spray bottle and steps up next to David. He hits a demo screen and shows David the path he’s going to take. “Now these white dots make the ghosts blue, which means you can eat them. That’s what you want to do. If you go around the long way, the ghosts try to cut you off, and you can cross the dot and eat them right away, instead of chasing them down. If you can be quick about it you basically set a trap.”

“After you,” David says, stepping to the side so Patrick has the spot in front of the controls. Patrick puts the quarter in and starts to play. Patrick is no expert. He’s about twenty levels in on his best day and he can do the first ten or so by memory. It’s muscle memory from his childhood. He’s never done it with someone watching over his shoulder, smelling like mint and something spicier mixed in. He’s never done it so close to someone he wants like this.

It’s not just David’s proximity and his scent that’s distracting. As soon as Patrick starts, David is yelling directions like he’s the pro and Patrick is the first-timer.

“Right. No down! Hurry the pink thingy is turning around! Take that you fucking green bastard! Okay yes, now cross to the other side. The other side! Up. Up again! You did it! They’re blue! You’re all fucking toast little ghosties.” David is patting Patrick’s shoulder encouragingly and Patrick is thankful this is level two and he doesn’t really have to think because he can’t spare a thought for anything except David touching him. Ms. Pac-Man swallows the last dot and David shakes Patrick with a hand cupping each shoulder.

“You did it! You fucking did it.” David is euphoric, and Patrick wonders how many other things in his life David gets excited about.

“I couldn’t have done it without your support,” Patrick says, his shoulders suddenly cold as David takes his hands back. He turns around, smiling a little when David doesn’t back away. “You’re very-“

“Generous?”

“I was going to say bossy," Patrick says, and this time instead of teasing, it's soft. 

“Hm,” David says, tipping his head back to hide a grin.

They stand there for a minute, grins tipping into soft smiles, the moment tipping into something… more. Then a customer comes in, and Patrick is pulled away, and David is growling at Ms. Pac-Man level three, and the moment is gone.

David appears with his bag and sunglasses shortly after the customer leaves.

“Ms. Pac-Man is making me hungry,” he says, “And I promised to bring Stevie dinner. But I’ll be back before our meeting tomorrow. Plus I noticed you have Pong and I once managed to win a Jersey mobster’s Bulgari watch playing that with my sister, so.”

Patrick really likes the way he ends a sentence that way at least three times a day. So. Like the rest of the thought is so obvious to everyone present it goes without saying.

“See you tomorrow,” Patrick says to David, who’s at the door. “And hey, I’m sure I’ve got a Timex laying around if you need a little motivation to give Ms. Pac-Man another try.”

“Hm, yes,” he says, playing along. “I’m impressed actually. I would think a calculator watch is more your vibe, judging from the general.. retro thing happening here.” He does one of his gestures like he’s washing a window, both hands turning circles with palms spread wide in the air.

“Oh I have one of those too,” Patrick says.

“Oh!” David replies, like he’s really hoping they’re still joking but afraid to ask.

“Yeah, but there’s no way I’d give that up. It’s a classic.”

“Would we call that a classic? Or just good old obsolete?” There’s a beat where they smile at each other, and the smile turns soft again like it did with Ms. Pac-Man.

“Goodnight, David.”

“Goodnight, Patrick.”

**5\. Who Needs Affection When I Have Blind Hatred?**

(Patrick Verona, _10 Things I Hate About You_ )

Patrick tries to hide his pleased little smile when David walks in on Friday afternoon wearing a fuzzy sweater, stars around the neck. He isn’t successful.

“What?” David snips.”

“I’m just surprised to see you in something other than a Tom Ford power suit,” Patrick teases.

“Are you, who has worn basically the same outfit every day this week, seriously making a crack about the variety of my wardrobe?” David asks. David wonders if Patrick saw the label or – and this is a dizzying thought – did a Google search just to figure out what David was wearing. Yesterday’s suit was in fact a metallic gray Tom Ford, but Patrick "Mid-Range-Denim" Brewer definitely can't know that without some help. Even so, David files it in his list of top five things Patrick has ever said to him, and god its embarrassing to admit even to himself but it seems like he has to update that list ten times a day.

“I just didn’t peg you or the casual Friday type,” Patrick continues, undeterred.

“First, this is not casual, it’s luxury. Second, this was supposed to be a short trip and the suits are dry clean only and apparently no one here owns clothes valuable enough to dry clean. So.” So.

“Oh, okay,” Patrick says, in that way he has that David thinks means something closer to, “you’re fucking nuts.” David much prefers knits to suiting fabrics, but his father insisted he wear suits to exude an air of Rose Corp. executive authority. But he is out of clean suits, and this trip has already lasted days longer than it was supposed to, and David has to have what will likely be an unpleasant conversation tonight with someone he really, really likes, and he’s pissed at Johnny Rose for sending him on this doomed mission anyway. So he’s wearing something that makes him feel comfortable and protected.

“I see we went with the dark blue button-down shirt today.”

“Indeed,” Patrick says, looking down at his ensemble. “And the Rose Video T-shirt from the 1998 collection.”

“It really was one of their best years.”

“Agreed. Also, I tie-dyed this one myself at a staff function. Does that make it couture?”

“Only if it was custom sewn," David says, because really. Tie dye?

"Made in Thailand, unfortunately."

"Ooh, this is one of my favorites,” David says, forgetting their banter and fishing _10 Things I Hate About You_ off the return pile Patrick is reshelving.

“I saw it once. I don’t love when modern filmmakers try to take Shakespeare and shoehorn it into present day contexts.”

“Um, excuse me, _10 Things I Hate About You_ will be cemented as one of the great classics of our time in any genre. It has her royal highness Julia Stiles, baby Joseph Gordon Levitt and Heath Ledger, who- well I just applied eye cream and I really don’t want to cry. There is singing, there is merriment, there are high school parties and strong female role models and smutty guidance counselors played by Allison-fucking-Janney and Letters to Cleo on the roof and- You know what, I can’t even do this with you right now. Did you bring your Timex?” David says.

“Of course,” Patrick lies, keeping up with David’s sudden shifts despite his laughter.

“Good. Because I spent an hour watching YouTube videos last night and I’m going to slay Ms. Pac-Man.”

“Actually you want to keep Ms. Pac-Man alive, David. Maybe that’s your problem.”

“You know what I meant,” David says, brushing Patrick off and heading to the back of the store.

\-----

It’s evening. David is lounging on the couch in Patrick’s office, which is getting stuffy. Patrick is sitting at his computer trying to describe a possible compromise to their franchise agreement situation. He even has a slide presentation. David is only sort of paying attention. His dad would probably love this, but David’s not Johnny Rose. This is not how David works. He holds his ground against all comers and acts on impulse only when he feels ready.

“Here’s the thing,” David says, his impatience overflowing until he can’t help but interrupt. “I don’t compromise. This isn’t a negotiation.”

“I certainly admire refusal to compromise as a life philosophy, David, but this franchise agreement says I have ten years left. Now if you need me to come to a different agreement, which I have no legal obligation to do, it seems like I’m the one that gets to decide if this is a negotiation.”

David tries to hide how hot it makes him when Patrick puts his little foot down. No one has ever done that with David outside his family. Especially with this intoxicating mix of calm, patience, and smugness.

“Or we can wait until the ten years is up,” Patrick adds after David says nothing.

“That won’t work for us,” David replies, quiet.

“Then I guess you’ll have to find some way to… to compromise,” Patrick says with that upside-down smile David adores. “And I want you to know I’m here for you, during this difficult time.”

“Thanks so much,” David says, pained. He wants to disagree on principle but he doesn’t know enough about any of this and he thinks, not for the first time, that his dad is an idiot for sending him on this errand. Not only is David failing miserably, but he suspects he’s having much more fun failing than he’s meant to.

“I have a suggestion, if you’re open to it,” Patrick says, trying to break them out of this détente.

“I’m open to suggestions,” David says, in a way that means he’ll listen but not actually consider it.

“My quarter’s up in another month and a half. Stay. Manage the store with me. See what you think. If the quarterly numbers are below three percent profit, I’ll let Rose Corp. buy me out. If they’re three percent or better, I keep the store, and the name, no matter what you decide to do about Rose Corp. I don’t really want to fight with your family. I’m a numbers guy. Let’s let the numbers decide.”

“Patrick Brewer,” he whispers under his breath. He’d seen the quarterly profit margins. Patrick had made a little colored bar graph. Three percent was about as high as the numbers had ever been in recent years, which Patrick certainly knows.

“I don’t understand,” David says, unable to come up with anything but the truth. “What would that change? Why would a couple weeks make you willing to give up something you won’t even budge on now.”

“Look, I fell into this by accident. I wasn’t looking at it as a lifetime dream. And I still don’t. But I’m really proud of this place.”

“Mmhmm,” David says. “Are you sure 'proud' is the right word? Have you seen the paint color?”

“Yeah, well, I have some work to do,” Patrick says, and then he’s just staring down at his hands, bravado quieted for the moment.

“Hey, where’d you go?” David asks. Now that he knows the rules, he can keep up with snotty, smug Patrick. He doesn’t know what to do with this Patrick, who is earnest and honest and vulnerable.

“Sorry. I just- David, if I’m going to lose the store no matter what, I just want someone at Rose Corp. to know what it was that was lost. It doesn’t have to be you, I guess, but you’re here already and somewhat tolerable.”

“Oh. Somewhat tolerable. I’ll have to add that to my Tinder profile,” David jokes, getting a feeble smile from Patrick in return. He feels a lump in his throat. A very unwelcome lump, which he swallows down. “So what happened to the man who was making bold claims about his ironclad franchise agreement?”

“The agreement is sound. But you can afford the best lawyers in the world, and I can afford to call up a few friends from college and beg for some free advice. If Rose Corp. wants me gone, they can probably make it happen.”

David wants to argue. He wants to say his father would never do that. Wants to tell Patrick how much his father loves Rose Video. How difficult it has been for everyone, watching it slip through his hands because of a changing world. David wants to tell Patrick how much his father would appreciate what he’d done here. He doesn't know if any of what he wants to say is true. And the one true thing he wants, he doesn't say. 

“So if I stay, how do you know I won’t sabotage things?”

“Well David Rose, I guess that’s a risk I’m willing to take in exchange for six more weeks of you underfoot.” He says it teasingly, but David thinks he sees a flicker of more behind it.

“Okay…” he says hesitantly, then with more certainty, “Yes. Okay. I mean I have to run it by some people, but yes.”

“Also, in the interest of us potentially working together, I feel I should come clean about something,” Patrick says, looking uncharacteristically nervous.

“Okay,” David says, very interested.

“I didn’t hate _10 Things I Hate About You_.”

“I knew it.”

“Not even a little bit. Not even at all.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t. You burn. You pine. You perish.”

“This is not your cutest moment.”

“Oh, so I have a cutest moment?” Patrick asks, looking like he’s finally speared a fish.

“Shut up. You know what you’re doing.”

“Well that was very rude. Are you feeling overwhelmed, David? Or just whelmed?”

“Go to hell.”

“Hell is just a sauna, David.”

“Then I hope you’ll be very happy there,” David says, leaving the office with his bag.

“Tell me what Mr. Rose says.”

“I’m never coming back here,” he calls over his shoulder.

“Ms. Pac-Man will be devastated,” Patrick says, not even hiding his laugh because he can see through David like he’s made of crystal.

“Bye-ee.” David is finally out of ear shot and more turned on than he can remember being in a long time. Certainly more turned on than he’s ever been following a slide presentation.

“Mr. Rose!” the kid at the desk calls after him, handing him a DVD. “Patrick said to check this out for you.”

He moves the receipt to see Heath Ledger and Julia Stiles staring at him on the cover. He tries very hard not to smile because this is either a stunning coincidence or a very sly long con. It’s the latter, it has to be, because Patrick always needs the last word.

“Good choice, by the way,” the kid says. David looks at him, and his smile widens. The kid is wearing a snug button-down shirt with a floral pattern and a pair of skinny jeans. His nametag says Connor. He looks like he has exactly two shits to give. David knows better than to make assumptions, but he sees a lot of himself in this kid.

“Thank you,” David says, taking the movie. “Tell Patrick thanks for me.”

“Actually, Mr. Brewer and I were just talking about this movie last weekend. It’s one of his favorites. I’m team Cameron, but he was firmly team Patrick. Something about having a thing for pretty guys with really good hair.”

“Excuse me?” David says, because this kid is either a mind reader or fucking with him, or possibly both.

“Patrick’s woefully short on fashion sense and turns into kind of an idiot when one of his sports teams are playing, so I thought I’d let you know he’s a Heath Ledger fan, because you seem a little confused and I think he might be a little confused and I think it would be easier for me around here, professionally speaking, if he was getting laid.”

“Okay I can’t tell if you’re joking, or just have zero sense of boundaries, so I’m going to go. But thank you. For the movie. Thank you for the movie, not the other thing.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Rose,” Connor says, looking way too pleased with himself.

He has to get out of there. He’s just agreed to six more weeks in Schitt’s Creek, six more weeks with that beautiful, aggravating, sweet man and – he is just realizing this is part of the deal – his idiot savant of an employee. Now David’s very worried that the things he’s been telling himself about Patrick surely being straight, or already attached (there’s no way a guy like him is single), or off limits at the very least will erode under the slightest possibility that Patrick likes pretty guys with really good hair.

\-----

Patrick is drying off after a shower when his phone vibrates on the nightstand.

 **David, 10:01 PM** : My dad is on board with your plan to wait out the quarter. He's going to have someone send you an agreement in writing outlining the terms we discussed.

Patrick smiles. He texts with David as he finishes putting on his pajamas and getting ready for bed.

 **Patrick, 10:02 PM** : Ms. Pac-Man will be so happy.

 **David, 10:03 PM** : I have to go to New York and pick up some things. Back Monday.

 **Patrick, 10:06 PM** : I have plenty of old employee uniform shirts you can borrow.

 **David, 10:07 PM** : This is going to be the longest six weeks of my life.

 **Patrick, 10:10 PM** : Aw, don’t worry. I think you’ll find me somewhat tolerable.

 **David, 10:11 PM** : I find you plenty tolerable.

Patrick is struck, not for the first time, with overwhelming fondness for David. 

David watches the dots form and disappear indicating Patrick is trying to figure out what to respond. He tries to walk it back.

 **David, 10:15 PM** : Lots of things are tolerable. Like a vaguely unpleasant odor. Or socks that are just a little bit damp.

Patrick starts typing a line from _10 Things I Hate About You_ about affection. David is faster.

 **David, 10:15 PM:** Don’t even think about quoting that movie.

 **David, 10:15 PM** : I love that movie and if you ruin it for me I will never forgive you.

Patrick laughs and decides to let David win this one.

 **Patrick, 10:16 PM** : Goodnight, David. See you Monday.

 **David, 10:17 PM** : Goodnight, Patrick.

**6\. This Was Still a Town that Existed in Black and White**

(Isaac Davis, _Manhattan_ )

NOTE: There is a part of this chapter where David flashes back in his mind to a difficult sexual and physical encounter (verbal abuse, implied non-con, physical force, ultimately stopped on request).

David has never felt more tired. He’s been back in the city for less than twenty four hours. His parents have been glued to him for twenty three of them. He can’t remember the last time he’s spent this many hours one after another, consecutively, in a row with them. He wants to crawl into bed and hide there until he gets back on a plane Sunday night. That’s not an option, because Alexis is on her way back from her latest misadventure. Apparently Stavros has dumped her. Again. And now the asshole needs his place in the Hamptons for whoever he’s replaced her with so he’s kicking her out. His father has decided what everyone needs is a good old fashioned family dinner, which is just perfect because they didn’t have family dinners even when the checks were flowing and they saw each other more than twice a year. There’s nothing to be done. In twenty minutes he’ll be eating at a nice restaurant, where he will have to yet again pretend like nothing is wrong, like his parents didn’t help his ex turn his world upside down, and he will have to navigate Alexis’s fragile state at the same time.

“David I believe our chariot has arrived,” his mother calls from the hall.

“Coming.”

David sits quietly at the table, letting Alexis monopolize their parents with her latest drama. He looks at the sparse prix fixe menu and can’t help but recall the four oversized panels of the ridiculous menu at Café Tropical. It had taken Patrick more than ten minutes to walk him through it, ranking dishes by the approximate degree of frozen each had started its day. He smiles to himself.

“Do I behold a sliver of a smile on my scion’s face?” his mother asks, kicking him under the table with the sharp point of her heal.

“Ow. And no. I was just noticing that the dessert course is espresso-based.”

“Dear, is dessert the plan? One must always be wary of turning into a spinster.”

“Okay one, it's a set menu. And B, you can put the thesaurus away for the night,” David snaps. “You passed the vocab on the SAT. We get it.”

“David, don’t talk to your mother that way,” his father says, putting a protective hand on her shoulder.

“You know what? I’m done,” David says.

“David, we’ve only finished the bread,” his father presses.

“You know I’m actually feeling a little bloated. Probably from the plane, so,” he says, standing up.

“David, I just got here,” Alexis whines. “You’re supposed to help me get Stavros back.”

“Yeah, no. I’m not doing that. He’s a jerk and you can do better.”

“David,” she starts, but doesn’t continue.

David looks at the three of them, staring at him with wide eyes. He can be dramatic and crabby. They know this. But this is different. He’s different. They’re looking at him like they’ve just realized he’s not the person they knew. About fucking time.

“I’ll stop by before I leave tomorrow,” he says to all of them. And then he leaves.

David wanders without much thought for which way he’s going. When he’s ready to land somewhere for the night he’ll figure out the way back on his phone. He thinks about his phone, thinks about friends who live here, friends he might call up for the night. There’s only a couple names in his phone he’s even spoken to since he closed the gallery. Once word got around town that David Rose was no longer buying bottle service or throwing parties, people stopped calling, stopped inviting. Without realizing he was heading there, he finds himself standing in front of the gallery he used to own. He looks through the modern glass storefront. It’s still a gallery. The current manager has chosen a series of still-lifes to showcase in the front room. They’re a little more technicolor than real life but otherwise feature mundane objects. They begin to suggest a story, a number of stories actually, based on the way the objects are arranged. It’s not the kind of thing David would have displayed but he thinks they’re interesting nonetheless.

A small group is leaving through the side door, walking down the passage between the gallery and the neighboring building. He hears a familiar voice and turns away from it. They’d once shared the apartment above the gallery. Of course Sebastien still lives here. David tries to walk away as nondescript as he can. He knows he’s been crying and looks like shit. Sebastien Raine is absorbed in his own world, as usual, and David thinks he’s escaped unnoticed until he hears his name being shouted from thirty feet away.

“Hey,” David says, turning to wave. He doesn’t get closer. Sebastien comes to him. _That’s a first,_ the bitter voice in David’s head supplies ruefully. David tries not to look too uncomfortable as Sebastien looks him over. Twice. He smiles without a shred of joy behind it.

“It’s good to see you,” he says coolly. Then he moves in. David knows Sebastien is an act first/apologize later person, so he’s prepared. He turns his head sideways and Sebastien’s kiss lands in front of his ear.

“I thought I told you never to touch me again.” David doesn’t know where the gravel in his voice came from, but he’s grateful for it.

“C’mon David. We were good together.”

“No. I was good to you. You treated me like shit.”

“You loved it.”

“I didn’t, but I didn’t stop it, so that’s on me.”

“You seem hungry. You're always cranky when you're hungry. You want to grab a bite to eat?”

“No. Nope,” David says. His stomach growls, an epic betrayal. It’s what he gets for skipping dinner.

“I knew you’d be back,” he says. “I knew you would come back for more.”

“I’m not here for more. I’m not here for you.”

David turns and walks away. He has to get out of there before his spine turns to rubber.

“Fine. You were a lousy fuck anyway,” Sebastien calls after him. Two passerby turn to look at him. David lets him have the last word, even though he hates it. It was a small price to pay to be free of him.

David reaches the end of the block where he knows he’ll be out of Sebastien’s sight, and looks back at the gallery. It throws a glow on the sidewalk outside. It looks friendly in this light, with people strolling quietly by holding hands or laughing and talking. He remembers the last night he saw it, a chill up his spine.

He’d walked up that day Sebastien was supposed to unveil his latest installation. David had given him complete control over the show and agreed to let him keep it a surprise. Sebastien pitched a study of human emotions through photographs of New Yorkers. David will never forget the moment he realized Sebastien had violated his privacy and his trust, that the photographs in the gallery were all of David, most without clothes, all displayed without permission, some taken without his knowledge. They’d fought about it later. David had unmounted one of the photos that he found particularly distressing and thrown it at another one. Sebastien had dragged David back to his little office and shoved him against the wall. He’d tried to fuck him there, up against the wall, cheek and ear pressed into the plaster, a hand splayed across the side of his face. David was used to begging during sex. Sebastien loved it. Demanded it. But this time, he’d begged him to stop. At first he didn’t listen. David, who had given Sebastien everything and found it still wasn’t enough, finally reached his limit.

“Get the fuck off of me,” he said, finding a clear, deep voice somewhere back in his throat.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re angry,” Sebastien said, adjusting himself and leaning on David’s desk.

“I’m taking them down and I’m calling every gallery in town to make it clear they were taken without consent. Good luck finding someone else to show them.”

“I already got paid,” he’d said with a shrug. “I don’t suppose I can do anything about the upfront costs, but I will not be making the rest of the payment.”

“Oh, David, don’t you understand? Your parents paid me months ago. They pay all your artists. They pay most of your patrons, too.”

“Nice try,” David said, not believing him. “Get the fuck out.”

Sebastien just chuckled and opened his wallet and pulled out a check. David recognized his mother’s handwriting. His mother had been at the opening earlier that night. She’d not only paid him, she’d paid him after seeing the show.

“I know this must be hard for you,” Sebastien said, reaching for David’s shoulder and thinking better of it. “But just know, if you ever need to talk about it, to process what you’re feeling, I’m here for you. I can forgive this little display.”

“Get. The. Fuck. Out,” David had whispered. He could still hear the sound of Sebastien whistling as he walked through the gallery, the too-cheerful sound reverberating off the walls that still displayed David’s pain. David had ripped the photos off the walls and piled them in the center of the room. He’d asked someone from his father’s office to handle the sale of the gallery. He’d never been back.

David wipes away tears at the memory. It’s been almost a year. He’s surprised, the more his old life seems to slip through his fingers, the less he misses even a single piece of it. It’s a beautiful city. Colorful and loud and full of life. Like David. Or like David wants to be. He’s going to spend this time in Schitt’s Creek and then come back and build the life here that he’s always wanted. On his own. That’s what will heal him, he’s sure of it. So he gives himself permission to be a little broken, a little angry with Sebastien and a lot hurt, and most of all permission to want more out of his life.

He knows he’s not far from Times Square so he heads that direction. He sits on the red stairs in the center of the square over the TKTS booth. He pulls out his phone to check the time. It's almost midnight. He is an hour ahead of Schitt’s Creek. His thumb hovers over Patrick’s name. He isn’t sure what he would say, but he just suspects Patrick would make him feel better. Right below Patrick’s number is Stevie’s. In a week, they've become fast friends. He thinks for a moment how convenient it was that by accident of their last names his one friend in Schitt’s Creek is right below his- colleague? well whatever Patrick is. He taps Stevie’s name and listens to the phone ring in his ear. “You’d better be dying because I rented _Manhattan_ and I’m halfway through a joint and I really like the way Woody Allen’s dialogue sounds when I’m high.”

“I’m basically dying,” David says, laughing at her. “We’re going to talk about Woody Allen when I’ve fully processed that. Because, no. Can you share the joint?”

“Sure, come over.”

“I can’t. I’m in New York.”

“Got sick of us that quick, huh?”

“I’m coming back on Monday. I told Patrick I would give it six weeks.”

“Oh, and I assume you’re staying with him too since I don’t have a reservation for you.”

“I’m sorry, are you all sold out for the first time in the history of that sad little motel?”

“I can probably work you in. It’s going to take a lot of finessing on my part, and that sounds like too much work honestly, so I hope you’ve brought proper items to serve as a bribe.”

“Oh I think I can manage that,” David says, hoping the little boutique he’s thinking of is open tomorrow before his flight. He’d like to get something for Stevie anyway. And maybe Patrick too. Would that be weird, to get something for Patrick?

“So if you’re not dying, why are you delaying the high I’ve been looking forward to all day?”

“You know Patrick who runs the video store?”

“Twyla owes me five dollars.”

“What?” David asks, instantly crabby. What does Twyla have to do with any of this? David should probably not be saying anything more, but it’s obvious she suspects something.

“Nothing,” Stevie responds after a pause. “Yes, I know Patrick.”

“Do you know what his preferences are?”

“Hm, preferences…” she says with mock pensiveness. “Like sweet or salty? Hot or cold? Beach or mountains? Red wine or white? What preferences are we talking about exactly?”

“Never mind,” David says.

“He doesn’t date,” Stevie says. “At least not openly. There was someone when he first moved here but I don’t know if they were together or recently broken up. She only came to visit once. Since then, nothing. I’ve never even seen him flirt with someone before you.”

David forgets what he wants to ask next. He practically forgets his name.

“Something wrong David?” she asks, her voice insincerely light.

“It’s not flirting. It’s open-faced provocation.”

“What’s the difference?”

“He’s not into me,” David says. “I’m here to take away the life he’s built, and he knows it.” David sounds mournful to his own ears. He hates that this is his job. Stevie wonders how long it will take him to realize it doesn’t have to be.

“Patrick seems like he has it all together,” Stevie says. “But I don’t think he’s all that attached to the life he’s built. Maybe he’s liking the disruption.”

“Are you calling me a disruption?” David asks, but he’s smiling and she can hear it in his voice.

“Are you going to try to convince me you’re not?” she asks.

“No. But I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“Okay. Can I get back to my movie and my joint?”

“Yes. Yes. Sorry. I don’t know why I called.”

“Well, best wishes then,” she quips.

“Warmest regards,” he says, hanging up and feeling better.

He hovers over Patrick’s contact. Maybe he’ll just send a text. He looks at the time. It’s late, even with the hour time difference. Patrick is probably asleep. He’s probably a morning person. He probably wakes up happy and makes his bed and eats and egg on dry toast or some other healthy-person breakfast. He probably goes to the gym and does whatever they have posted on their Workout of the Day board. He just moves like someone whose day has been a success since that first ring of the morning alarm. David wonders what it’s like to wake up next to someone like that. Would he let himself be dragged back into bed if David was convincing enough? Maybe. He’d probably build in time for it eventually, setting his alarm a little earlier. But maybe after, he’d make David breakfast and-

“Whoa,” he stops himself, making a couple sitting a few steps down turn to look at him.

He closes out his contacts and slips his phone back in his pocket. He sits on the steps and watches the city whir around him. The city has no idea what time it is. The city doesn’t have to wonder if the rest of the world is asleep. It moves and breathes and lives without apology. David is like that too, on the outside. On the inside, he’s anything but. He won't always be. He has to find another way.

David wagers everyone is asleep at the apartment. It’s probably safe to go home. He has to pack up his things anyway. Maybe he can spend the morning at the diner two blocks over and avoid contact with his family until his plane leaves. Six weeks and then he can come back. He’ll take the time in Schitt’s Creek to figure out his next move.

**7\. No One Kills Him But Me**

(Karl, _Die Hard_ )

Patrick is thrilled to have David back. It’s Wednesday, their second day working in the store together since his quick return to New York. He loves the energy David brings to the store. He loves the way he just can’t help giving movie advice. It seems like a lot of the customers love his advice too. It comes with a certain amount of holier-than-thou, but it works for David. And everything about David works for Patrick. When David was in New York, Patrick decided he’s going to ask David out. The problem is when. And how.

Patrick sees a familiar face peering up at the Rose Video sign from the edge of the parking lot outside the store. He has an idea.

“David, if she comes in pretending to be anyone other than your sister, you owe me a movie night, my pick.”

David recognizes the tall blonde with the severe ponytail striding towards the store like she owns the place. Sister or not, as soon as he has a private moment, he’s going to hand Alexis a fork and invite her to swallow it.

“Deal,” he says. David doesn’t care what movie Patrick picks. He can tell by the way Alexis is dressed that Patrick is going to win the bet. David’s all in.

“Angelica Bloomfield,” Alexis says when she stops before Patrick, offering a firm handshake. Patrick kicks David’s calf lightly behind the counter. “I’m an attorney with Bloomfield and Kirchoff representing Rose Corp. May I have a few moments of your time?”

“Patrick Brewer. Nice to meet you, Ms. Bloomfield,” Patrick says with a grin.

“Mm likewise,” she says with a come-hither smile, laying it on thick. “And Mr. Rose, what a pleasant surprise.”

“Ms. Bloomgren,” David nods.

“Bloomfield,” Alexis says, clearing her throat meaningfully with a sharp look at David.

“My apologies,” David says, sucking his lips into his mouth to try to control them. He can’t make eye contact with either of them. Patrick knows, obviously, who she is. And if David catches Alexis’s eye he’s going to give away that Patrick knows, which would be okay except he really wants to watch this play out.

Alexis is no doubt assuming that Patrick’s smile is because he’s instantly smitten (aren’t they all). David knows better. He’s been cataloging Patrick’s smiles from tight to full-on and ornery to adoring and this one is saying _I know you’re full of shit and I’m gonna enjoy this until I’ve watched you make an absolute fool of yourself_. It would be an asshole move except David knows that when Ms. Bloomfield is revealed to be none other than Alexis Rose, Patrick is going to let her down easy. That’s just Patrick. It’s why David’s falling for him. And since when did he use phrases like ‘falling for him’?

“Mr. Brewer, can you and Mr. Rose join me in back? This will only take a minute of your time.”

“Unfortunately I can’t leave the register. You’re free to talk here,” Patrick says.

“Perhaps Dav- Perhaps Mr. Rose can watch the register,” Alexis replies, her all-business demeanor stretching a little thin.

“Mr. Rose doesn’t know how to run the register,” David replies.

“Whatever you have to say in front of me you can say right here in front of Mr. Rose,” Patrick says, crossing his arms like he’s settling in for a fucking show.

“I see,” Alexis says. She takes a long look between the two of them, standing so close in matching arms-crossed poses they’re almost touching behind the ugly red checkout counter. Her eyes narrow. David, still refusing to look, can feel her scanning him up and down with her sister X-ray vision. Whatever she finds, she files it away and pushes on with her act.

“I’ve been asked by Rose Corp. to take a look at your franchise agreement,” she says. She whips a file folder out of a sleek designer bag and opens it on the counter. David recognizes his father’s handwriting in the margins and his body tenses. It’s the segment of the franchise agreement on branding and store outfitting. Everything David told him when he was home about how Patrick has reimagined the store is noted, along with highlights where these violate the franchise agreement. David takes deep breaths. It’s yet another betrayal of confidence but he’s not mad, yet. He’s becoming numb to them.

Patrick twists his head and the file folder so he can read her copy more-or-less right-side up.

“Ah, I see what this is,” Patrick says. Without another word, he walks back in the back.

“Now I get why you’re so bad at this, David,” Alexis says, attempting a wink and blinking with a squint instead. “You’re sleeping with that little Button. That’s so cute.”

“I am not!” David growls in a stage whisper. “He’s not even into me.”

“Okay, David, it’s just that when I walked in here you guys were laughing and he was looking at you like he’s seen you naked, so maybe he’s been imagining you naked then?”

“Ohmigod, Alexis,” David hisses, hoping she can’t see how much he hopes that is true. “What are you even doing here? And why are dad’s notes all over this.”

“Well, David, when you came back and told him about your little arrangement with sweet Patrick he decided you could use some help. And I had an unexpected opening thanks to Stavros, so. Here I am!” Patrick walks back out and David glares at her with his back to Patrick, trying to convey how totally out line her entire presence is.

“I thought this might be an issue,” Patrick says, “So I went through the franchise agreement myself a few days ago.”

Patrick hands her the franchise agreement marked up with his tidy handwriting. True to form, this is done with tabs stuck to the sides so she can see everything he’s noted.

“The red tabs indicate areas Rose Corp. has violated the franchise agreement. The yellow tabs are areas where I know we are not in compliance with this original document. Per the franchise agreement, all variance requests shall be submitted in writing two weeks in advance. Here is a stack of my requests along with the certified mail receipts. You’ll see there are multiple requests for some issues, all of which went unanswered, so I started concluding the requests with this line.”

Intrigued, David leans over Patrick to see what he's pointing at. At the end of the top letter was a sentence in bold.

Patrick reads it aloud: “If I do not receive written denial of this variance request within ten business days, I have no choice but to assume the request has been approved and will proceed as outlined in this letter. I feel these modifications are necessary for the continued operation and profitability of the store and the lack of response from Rose Corp. a detriment to the same.”

David has never been so turned on by someone reading a piece of paper.

“I consulted with a business expert here in town on the wording. He said it’s somewhat of a gray area, legally, but I didn’t feel I had much choice. Perhaps an esteemed attorney such as yourself can enlighten me, Ms. Bloomfield,” Patrick says, all cock-sure charm.

“Burn, Alexis,” David says, no longer hiding his glee or her identity. David doesn’t exactly want Rose Corp. to fail, but it feels good to see someone get the better of his father after everything he’s learned over the past year.

“Shut up, David,” Alexis says, dropping her act. “I mean, please excuse me while I consult my co-counsel,” she revises, fighting her way back into character.

“He knows who you are,” David says, rolling his eyes.

“You must be Alexis Rose,” Patrick says, trying for the handshake again. “I’ve heard a lot about you. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Thanks for stabbing me in the back, David,” Alexis says.

“I said nothing.”

“Wait, I thought your name was Dana Cruise,” Patrick deadpans, turning to David. David lasts about a sixth of a second before he busts up laughing. Patrick joins him, and they both dropped their heads to the counter, giggling uncontrollably.

“Okay, well this is very cute, but I do actually need to call Dad,” she says. “Can I use the back room? It’s really humid out and melting and frizzy is not a good look for me.”

“Sure,” Patrick says, standing and trying to return himself to a respectable business owner. Laughing at the Rose Corp heiress is probably not the best idea in the long run, even if David does seem to be enjoying himself in an uncharacteristically unbridled way that makes Patrick’s stomach swoop.

David is wiping tears from his eyes when he finally stands, slowly regaining his composure.

“Would have never guessed you were brother and sister, Dana,” Patrick drawls when Alexis leaves with a huff.

“What can I say, we come from soap star royalty.”

“Oh, god, I forgot about that. Do you think your mom is next?”

“No. There’s no way she sets foot in this place, even if she did get to invent a new character.”

“Hm, okay. That’s too bad. I’m starting to enjoy these little surprise visits from the Rose family.”

“Yes, well, trust me, we’re all about the same amount of insane. Once you’ve met one, you sort of have the general sense of us all.” It always bothers him when David puts himself down. Patrick is trying to decide between a sassy comment or a genuine one when Alexis breezes back in.

“Okay, David, since you’ve humiliated me in front of our associate here, the least you can do is buy me dinner at that cute little restaurant across the street,” Alexis says. David and Patrick exchange a look followed by a knowing smile.

“Did I humiliate you? Because from where I’m standing, it seems like you humiliated yourself.”

“Ugh, David. I came all the way here to help you, so you’re buying me dinner. Let’s go.”

“Excuse me, I do have a job here,” David says, attempting to convey wordlessly to Patrick to back him up.

“I’m fine here. Connor will be here for the late shift soon. Enjoy the time with your sister,” Patrick says. David glares at him. He smiles sweetly in return, except David knows it's salty, not sweet.

“Thank you, Patrick. That’s so sweet for you to let David off early so I don’t have to be lonely,” Alexis says, tapping a finger up his arm. David has seen Alexis do that move before, an opening step in her flirting choreography. Patrick withdraws his arm swiftly out of reach, which is… interesting.

“Have a good time,” Patrick says, dismissing them both. “Enjoy your time with Ms. Bloomfield, Dana.”

“That’s Mr. Cruise to you,” David shoots back with a wink. _Oh god._ Before he can make an excuse for that, Alexis is pulling him out the door.

\-----

David manages to ignore his phone buzzing in his pocket during dinner with Alexis. It is a relief, actually, to talk to her without his parents. She is just herself, dropping the production she puts on for everyone else. He's missed her.

She gets up to pay the check at the bar and ends up talking to Ted, who is picking up his own dinner. Ted is quite obviously smitten, so David pulls his phone out of his pocket to avoid having to watch Alexis at work.

 **Patrick, 7:04 PM:** Hope you’re having fun with Ms. Bloomfield. You owe me a movie. How’s Thursday?

 **David, 7:08 PM:** Thursday’s good. What are we watching?

 **Patrick, 708 PM:** Die Hard

 **David, 7:09 PM:** No. No. Absolutely not.

 **Patrick, 7:09 PM:** You said I could pick _[frowning emoji]_

 **David, 7:10 PM:** Yes, because I assumed you would pick a sports movie. Like one of the ones we’ve been talking about. No one said anything about Die Hard.

 **Patrick, 7:11 PM:** It’s an American classic. You can’t be a functioning member of society until you’ve seen it.

 **David, 7:11 PM:** I think you can. I have evidence you can.

 **Patrick, 7:12 PM:** David, I won the bet. We’re watching Die Hard on Thursday.

 **David, 7:12 PM:** I think I might be ill.

 **Patrick, 7:13 PM:** Say goodnight to Ms. Bloomfield for me.

 **David, 7:13 PM:** Goodnight, Patrick.

**8\. Pay No Attention to the Man Behind the Curtain**

(The Great and Powerful Oz, _The Wizard of Oz_ )

Patrick is putting the last of his laundry away before the Thursday night movie night with David when his phone buzzes on the bedside table.

 **David, 7:14 PM:** There’s something wrong with the address you gave me. I’m at a barn in the middle of nowhere.

 **Patrick, 7:14 PM:** You’re here.

 **David, 7:14 PM:** Your house is a barn?

 **Patrick, 7:15 PM:** It’s a long story. Are you coming in or…

 **David, **7:15 PM** :** Yep in a minute. I’m just going back over my life choices to see where I went wrong.

 **Patrick, 7:16 PM:** If it makes you feel any better, it’s a nice barn.

 **David, 7:16 PM:** That’s not a thing.

Dots show up and disappear. Patrick doesn’t respond.

David opens his message chain with Stevie.

 **David, 7:18 PM:** Is there any situation in which a guy asking you over to watch Die Hard is a date?

 **Stevie, 7:18 PM:** OMG. Who asked you to watch Die Hard

 **David, 7:19 PM:** Never mind

 **Stevie, 7:19 PM:** Is Patrick making food

 **David, 7:19 PM:** It’s not him.

 **Stevie, 7:20 PM:** Okay, so it’s Patrick

 **David, 7:20 PM:** It’s not Patrick. And he asked me to bring pizza.

 **Stevie, 7:21 PM:** [Detective with magnifying glass emoji]

 **Stevie, 7:21 PM:** Anything planned before/after?

 **David, 7:22 PM:** No. I just lost a bet. I just answered my own question.

 **Stevie, 7:22 PM:** Tell Patrick hi for me.

There’s a knock at the window and David screams.

“Get out of the car, David,” Patrick says, sounding muffled through the closed passenger window. David feels his heart stutter. He’s not sure if it’s the fright or his body’s natural response to Patrick ordering him around.

“Fine, but if you have animals living in there with you I’m leaving.”

“Just two goats and a cow named Moo-va Longhorn. Ted named her.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Ted can’t help himself. C’mon, David. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Patrick,” David warns. He’s trying not to spiral. It’s just, what if Patrick does live with animals? What if he learns something in Patrick’s place that makes him like him less. Or worse, makes him like him more? What if he’s about to be kidnapped or murdered?

"C'mon, David. You're going to be fine," Patrick says. 

“I don’t see a cow, so.” David seems to relax a bit once they’re inside. He still maintains there is no such thing as a nice barn, but the space is okay. Sparse but clean and ordered, tilted a little toward dark. And since it’s all one space and Patrick’s bed is feet from the living room, it feels intimate too.

“Oh, I assure you, MooMoo, as I call her, is real. But she’s not mine and she doesn’t live here. She belongs to the neighbors and they’re terrible at maintaining their fences so sometimes she makes her way over here. She’s blind and nearly deaf, apparently. It’s a whole thing. Anyway, can I get you a drink?”

“Whatever you have,” David says. Patrick holds up whiskey and he nods.

“And the goats?”

“There are goats. They live outside. They’re not mine either.”

Patrick busies himself in the kitchenette dumping pub snack mix in a bowl and plating the pizza David brought while David looks around. David recognizes the bearded man in most of the photos. There’s a picture of him in Patrick’s office, the one by the creek surrounded by friends. There’s enough pictures of him that David feels it’s safe to assume he and Patrick are involved somehow. He tries to be okay with that. He fails, jealously licking through his body.

“The place isn’t mine either,” Patrick says, and David realizes he’s been watching David peer at the photos. “It belongs to Mutt, Roland’s son.”

“I’m sorry, there’s someone in this town named Mutt Schitt?”

“You’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto.”

“And you and Mutt are-“

“Friends,” Patrick supplies quickly, smiling at David’s pinched grin. “Really acquaintences. I was renting a room from Ray Butani and looking to find my own place. Mutt was leaving on a pine cone hunt – don’t even ask me what that is. I have no idea.”

“Oh I don’t think I want to know, anyway,” David replies, waving his hand to urge Patrick to continue.

“Anyway, I agreed to stay at his place and look after it. I’m thinking about buying a place so this way I can save up for the down payment. Although I guess I won’t be buying anything if the store closes,” Patrick frowns into his drink. David hates it, hates the frown, hates the interrupted plans, hates that he’s the one interrupting. In the short time he’s known Patrick, he’s learned that nothing gives Patrick comfort like a well-executed plan. No matter what happens with the store, it probably won’t be whatever Patrick had planned before David came to town. Patrick looks like this has just occurred to him.

“So since you’re not from here, tell me about where you’re from,” David says. He’s hoping it will distract Patrick from his thoughts, but he also hopes he can get Patrick talking until it’s too late to start the movie.

Patrick picks a point in high school and starts talking in between bites of garlicky breadsticks and pizza. It seems crazy now, watching Patrick lick a stray drip of garlic butter off his thumb, to think that David hadn’t been immediately attracted to him. After an initial hello that first day, David didn’t pay Patrick much attention as he wandered the store. He’d noticed that his ass was nice when he’d bent down to pull a DVD off the bottom shelf, but since the bottom shelf was in the sports section and Patrick’s braided-belted, straight-leg, mid-range denim wasn’t otherwise doing him many favors, David quickly went back to inspecting the store. When he’d come to the counter with _Jerry Maguire_ it was those honey brown eyes that first made David think, _cute_. _Very cute_ , actually. Not in an obvious way. Okay, maybe it was obvious if you were into the boy-scout-next-door type, but David typically preferred a bit more edge. And then David had made a nervous quip about the ugly countertop color to hide the fact that he was staring, and Patrick had fired back undeterred, and David thought, _Oh._ Unlike most of the people David was typically drawn to, Patrick’s edge wasn’t about high fashion or shitty manners or a twisted game of use or be used. Patrick’s edge is his mouth, the sharpness of his tongue. David would do pretty much anything at this point to see what else that tongue is capable of.

They talk for a while. David forgets he’s trying to delay and distract, finds he genuinely wants to know the answers to his questions. He learns about Patrick’s cousins, who are like siblings, and his hometown, and his engagement that ended just before he moved to Schitt’s Creek. Rachel is her name. Patrick says he loves her just not the way he needed to marry her, so David tries not to hate her. And this, the fiancé named Rachel, answers David’s most urgent and unspoken question, even if David doesn’t like the answer.

Talking about Rachel seems to fluster Patrick a little. He refills their drinks, giving himself a double. David doesn’t press further. Patrick, trying to shift to something he thinks will be easier to talk about, asks David about his quick trip to New York. David doesn’t say much. Talks a little bit about his family. About his sister breaking up with her boyfriend and breezing back into town. Maybe it’s knowing that he’s right about Patrick not being into him, maybe it’s the warm buzz from the whiskey, but soon he’s telling Patrick about the gallery. His parent’s betrayal.

Sebastien. He isn’t going to say much about him, just that he’s an ex, and he closed that chapter for good on Saturday. But then he’s drinking the rest of the whiskey and Patrick’s looking at him so open and safe, and soon he’s telling Patrick everything. Things he’s never told anyone. It’s heavy. He feels a bit like he’s reliving it. The telling reminds him of parts he’d blocked, forgotten. By the end of it he’s curled into himself, leaning against Patrick on the couch. Patrick’s arm has gone from straight across the back of the couch behind him, to curled loosely around his shoulder, to wrapped tightly, as it is now, hand splayed across his chest. Patrick’s lips are whispering over David’s head, saying nothings, soothing everything.

Patrick realized as he relived a painful night with his ex that it was not the first time David had heard the words "I love you" from someone who had no fucking clue what they meant, and that as a result David associated “I love you” with use and abuse and heartbreak. He became increasingly angry at the people in David’s life who had taken this brilliant, beautiful man for granted.

Patrick isn’t sure what he was expecting out of the evening. He’d been determined to tell David he has feelings for him. That was definitely not happening now. It was no less true. His feelings were stronger now than they had ever been. But this was clearly not the time, which made him wonder when it would be. Maybe this wasn’t meant to happen. Except that he could feel David’s heart under his hand, thudding loudly at first and then becoming slower as David eased under his attentiveness. Patrick knows there is something here. Something he owes it to himself to at least try to explore. But it’s already been four days and if he keeps getting derailed he’s going to run out of time. For now, holding David is more than he’d hoped he might get. He tries to return to the moment.

“David, none of this is your fault. You know that right?”

“I let him do it, Patrick. I let him.”

“No. He manipulated you. He used you. He made you feel like it was your idea. That’s what abusive people do. It’s not your fault.”

“Agree to disagree,” David huffs.

“No. I don’t agree to that. We don't have to talk about it anymore, but I don't agree.”

"Hm," is all David says. "Anyway, that's the embarrassing saga of he who shall not be named."

"You should say his name," Patrick says, gentle but firm. David hasn't yet, out loud.

"Why?"

"So it loses its power over you."

"Sebastien," David rasps. 

"Eff Sebastien and his fugly sweaters," Patrick says, and David can't help but smile because this sweet, sweet man is so angry on David's behalf and he still can't even say fuck. 

"I did, that's the problem," David says with a hollow chuckle. Patrick takes it as a good sign that David is joking with him again.

"Well he sounds like he didn't deserve your heart or your- you know," Patrick stammers.

"Or my parts?" David quips, rolling his eyes. Patrick is either very innocent or very, very good at this.

"Definitely didn't deserve your parts," Patrick agrees, rubbing his face in his free hand to try to hide his blush. 

"You're good at this," David says, because apparently his filter deserves a big Out of Order sign when Patrick is around.

"At what?"

"Talking."

"Thanks. Been practicing since I was two," Patrick says, flashing another of David's favorite smiles, the one that says _playing this game with you is the most fun I'll have today_.

"That's not what I meant," David says.

"I know what you meant," Patrick says. As he speaks, he cups a hand over David's knee, which is bent in front of him. It was meant to be brief and reassuring, but he sort of freezes, mesmerized by the feel of David's hair through the hole at his kneecap. He clears his throat and pulls away. 

"I should probably clean this up, let you get home," Patrick says, standing abruptly and releasing David from the hold. “I guess we’ll have to take a rain check on that movie,” Patrick adds.

“Do we though?” David asks.

Patrick smiles kindly.

“What if we do a double feature and you can pick one too?”

“Deal. Tomorrow?” David asks. “Or, I guess it’s Friday. You probably have plans.”

“Tomorrow works,” Patrick says, trying not to sound too eager.

“If we’re actually watching this movie, there better be fried food.”

“Of course. Strippers, beer, and fried food.”

“I hope you're joking about the strippers. I won't be drinking beer. But um, we don’t joke about fried food.”

“My mistake,” Patrick says, smiling fondly. David misses one of his favorite Patrick smiles, looking down at his lap.

“So when I come into the store tomorrow, I’d appreciate it if you could just erase this whole… situation,” David gestures towards himself as he shimmies his body, “and just act like it’s your adorable, sassy, fashionable friend who brightens your day with sound movie advice and general charisma.”

David has practically lobbed the ball to Patrick but he doesn’t take a swing. David’s eyes are still red, his face puffy from crying. He can’t bring himself to tease him about a personality he finds abundantly loveable.

“I’m very much looking forward to my adorable, sassy, fashionable friend coming into the store tomorrow,” Patrick says softly. “Although this situation is just fine too. For future reference.”

“Hm,” David says, trying not to squirm out from under Patrick’s gaze. David decides it’s time to go. It’s late and he feels drained from the crying and confessions.

Patrick walks him to his car, which seems a bit excessive since they’re in the middle of nowhere and the car is right outside his door, but David likes it, likes him, likes his warmth next to him in the evening chill, gravel crunching pleasantly under their feet.

He waves casually as David pulls away, then turns and heads back inside.

**9\. In case I forget to tell you later, I had a really good time tonight**

(Vivian Ward, _Pretty Woman)_

The next morning, David feels like he should do something to reset things with Patrick after the previous night’s overshare. Being with Patrick feels warm and safe for some reason. It has David cutting small openings in his carefully constructed walls. After last night, David knows it’s not romantic for Patrick. They’re friends. They could be good friends if David can keep this stupid crush under control. David could use a good friend. Even if Patrick is attracted to men, which feels like a big if, he’s not attracted to David. He’s smart and kind and generous and logical and pragmatic. He’s all the things David is not, and a lot more besides.

David stops at the café to pick up tea for Patrick and macchiato for himself. He orders a muffin, a scone, and some kind of Danish. He hopes Patrick will like one of them. He walks across to the store, not surprised to find Patrick has already opened for the day, five minutes early. Even less surprising, Bob from the garage is already parked in front of the Nintendo console playing some kind of poker game. 

“Hi David,” Bob says with a toothy grin. “Gwen said to tell you she’d be happy to come by later to show you how to get to the next level on Mario Bros.”

“Who the fuck is Gwen?” David asks, making Bob and Patrick laugh. And how does she know he’s been trying to level up on Mario Bros. Is level up the right word? He thinks that’s what Patrick said yesterday.

Patrick shakes his head, telling David silently to let it go. 

“Hi,” David says, low and breathy as he reaches the counter where Patrick is writing numbers in a notebook. David’s sure he’s about to be teased for his embarrassing display the night before.

“Hi,” Patrick echoes with a kind smile.

“So I thought I would bring you tea to thank you for being so nice last night.” 

“Thank you, David. That’s very generous of you,” Patrick responds, taken aback. David feels more embarrassed about Patrick’s surprise than he does about the rest of it. He’s obviously a monster if a simple gesture like picking up a beverage earns him this look of gratitude and… something else he can’t quite place.

“You can take whatever you want from the bag. I’ll eat what’s left.” Patrick chose the muffin and handed the rest to David.

“Are you sure you can manage on just two breakfast pastries?” Patrick asks. The gentle ribbing reassures David. Patrick is fine. He’s not dying of secondhand embarrassment. He’s not acting wary or scared. David’s not sure why Patrick is acting like everything is normal, but he’s grateful.

“I also have a cinnamon bun from the motel in my bag, so.”

“Ah. Well thanks for this,” he says with a smile, breaking off a bite of the muffin.

Patrick and David work quietly in the store for a while. When the store is empty, they talk freely. David loves watching Patrick talk. He’s always a little bit ahead of the story he’s telling, and his face telegraphs where it’s going. It’s delightful.

Patrick wishes Bob would go back to the garage. Lately he’s taken to putting a sign up on his door sometimes sending customers to come find him at Rose Video. Patrick doesn’t mind Bob. He usually buys snacks while he’s there, and he doesn’t need much else from Patrick other than to set him up. But with Bob there, David isn’t talking. The gaming consoles are right out in the middle. Any conversation they have is within earshot, and Bob is one of the biggest gossips in town. Patrick misses David’s talking. David doesn’t do much around the store, but he enjoys putting movies in to play over the two TVs in the store, and then talks during the whole thing about this actress or that ground-breaking story line or correct and incorrect meet-cutes. His hands start moving and soon his whole body is part of the commentary.

David’s been wearing sweaters since he came back from New York. They look soft. Patrick wants to feel them, wants to know what’s under them.

Patrick finishes his morning bookkeeping and gathers the weekly deposit for the bank.

“David, I have to run to the bank and do a few other errands in Elmdale. Do you mind watching the store for a bit until I get back?”

“Mmkay. Is Connor coming in, or-“

“I didn’t think I would need him since you’re here.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Is it? Okay?”

“Yeah, sure. I mean I have been looking for an opportunity to begin my plan of total sabotage, so this actually works well.” 

“Ah. Good to know,” Patrick says. David’s smile is twisted hard to the left. Patrick’s is soft, a thin line curved up at the corners. They linger in each other’s gaze for an extra beat.

“I’ll call you if something comes up,” David says.

“I should be back by three.”

\-----

Patrick ponders on his way back from Elmdale. He had a plan for the previous night. He had a plan, he was about to execute it, and then David had spent the night crying in his lap. Patrick wants to go for another try, but he isn’t feeling confident anymore. Would a bold move be appropriate the night after an experience like that? Maybe he should give it a few more days and let the dust settle. And what was the point in making a move at all if one of you would only be in town for five more weeks? A fling could be fun. Patrick loves the idea of David being his first experience with a man. David is beautiful, and funny, and sweet, although he clearly doesn’t see himself that way. Patrick thinks David is smart too, much smarter than he gives himself credit for. Patrick knows he’s not programed for flings. But if his choice is fling with David or no David, he’s going to try to let David reprogram him. _God, there’s a thought_ , he groans, shifting in his seat.

Patrick returns back to the store to find David on the floor in the Adult Video room, sorting porn into boxes. 

“What are you doing?” Patrick asks, trying to hide his smirk.

“I know this room is good for business, even if it means I now know what half the town gets off to,” David says, spreading his hands wide as he gestured at the boxes. “But earlier today Jocelyn and Roland came by and spent ten minutes _giggling_ back here talking about someone named Damien Steele and then they checked out the store limit of _six_ videos, including four from in here and two Meryl Streep vehicles which I now feel like you have to take out of circulation. So.”

Patrick is no longer trying to hide his smirk. It is one of David’s favorite Patrick smiles, like he is finishing the punchline to a joke in his head, somehow smiling despite the corners of his mouth arcing downward. He likes the smile so much he doesn't care that he might be, likely is, the joke.

“So take anything you want,” David pushes on, “because as long as I’m in town, Rose Video is no longer an adult film supplier,” he finishes, his hands settling on his knees with a light slapping sound. 

“So I was joking about sabotage earlier, but this section accounts for a big part of our revenue.” 

“I know. Which is baffling because hello, just go online. But I was actually thinking that we could make like a little event space back here. We’d have to move the shelving out, obviously, but it could be a good place to rent out for parties or meetings and stuff. Oprah recently said that event rental is a really fast-growing sector.”

“That’s actually a good idea, David,” Patrick says, nodding and looking around anew.

“Next time maybe try it without the ‘actually’ thankssomuch,” David says. Patrick isn’t listening. His eyes have settled on something interesting next to David on the floor.

“And is that your ‘save’ box there?” Patrick asks, grin impossibly wide as he pointed to a box with movies arranged neatly, spine up, and a waste bin full of used bleach wipes next to it.

“No,” David says on a swallow, suddenly finding something very interesting on the shelf next to him and rubbing at it.

“Oh, okay,” Patrick says lightly, crouching by another box and picking through it. David tries not to read anything into the fact that it is a box full of gay porn. Patrick is merely trying to play out this game because Patrick lives to get under David’s skin, and it is the closest box to where he is standing. 

“Hm, what about this one?” Patrick asks, holding up a film called _Next at Bat._

“Actually I haven’t seen that one, so I can’t speak to the quality,” David says, trying to play along.

“There is a baseball movie you haven’t seen? That is shocking news.”

“Mmm, I know. I’m surprised _you_ haven’t seen it,” David challenges, trying to keep himself together. He is starting to think he should just let Patrick get under his skin if it means Patrick is finally under some part of him. He is getting hot in the still-aired room. And very hard.

“Oh I just go online like a normal person," Patrick says with a wink. David tries very hard not to let his grip tighten on the shelf. "I’ve never heard of this one but I’m always game to try. You know I’m a sucker for a good baseball movie,” he said, casually sliding it into the “save” box.

“Um, is this my save box or yours?” David asks, his pitch rising.

“Well technically now that we have this agreement, I think it’s _our_ save box,” Patrick says. Satisfied with the way David’s jaw drops, Patrick turns and leaves the room without a word.

“Oh, David,” he says, poking his head back through the curtain for a victory lap.

“Yeah?”

“I brought cookies from a bakery in Elmdale, but maybe wash your hands first?”

“Obviously,” David replies, rolling his eyes.

“And save that one called _Power Play_ too. It’s not the _Downton Christmas Special_ but I’ve always found a hockey movie is a good way to pass a cold winter night. And I’d love to see how they use the penalty box,” Patrick adds before ducking back out.

“Ohmigod,” David says under his breath, trying very hard not to conjure up images of whatever a penalty box might be.

David hears Patrick laugh to himself as he walks away. David adds _Power Play_ (whatever that means) to his save box just in case, swiping the cover with a bleach wipe. It's five minutes before he's calmed down enough to cross through the store to wash his hands without broadcasting exactly the effect Patrick’s little game has had on him.

\-----

David feels a little residual embarrassment as he pulls up to Patrick’s that night. He’s hoping tonight will go better. He can’t shake the feeling that maybe Patrick is into him. Patrick saved gay porn in “their box.” He flirted mercilessly all day. David’s not exactly sure it’s flirting. Stevie is sure it’s flirting. David doesn’t know Stevie that well but he feels like he knows her. Stevie does know Patrick. Patrick shouldn’t be into him. It’s ludicrous on paper. But in person, in moments and glances and teasing and the barest of touches, it feels like the first thing in David’s life that has made sense in a very long time. He still doesn’t know what to do about it. For one thing, it could make the next few weeks awkward if he’s wrong. Patrick would be nice about it. That would make it even worse. For another thing, David is leaving. Soon. He can’t start something real or permanent with Patrick. He doesn’t know if he can trust himself to start something temporary. He doesn’t know, but he thinks maybe Patrick doesn’t do flings.

David shuts the door and screams for the second night in a row outside Patrick’s, seeing a shape cross the path to the front door. It’s one of those damn goats, David realizes. Patrick must have heard the scream because he pops his head out the front door.

“What are you doing, David? Screamnastics?”

“Is that a thing?”

“I think I read about it somewhere. You okay?”

“I was surprised by one of your goats.”

“Not my goats.”

“Fine, then one of the goats.”

“You need a minute to recover?” Patrick asks. His face is in shadow from the light coming through the door behind him, but David can hear the smile in his voice.

“I’ve been accosted by wildlife and now I’m about to watch Die Hard. You better not have been joking about fried food.”

“Oh, we don’t joke about fried food,” Patrick said, copying his tone from the night before. My god it did something to David when Patrick echoed his words back to him, like there wasn’t a moment they spent together that Patrick wasn’t cataloging, saving to pull out at the exact right moment. And he really needed to keep those kinds of thoughts at bay.

Patrick had indeed picked up fried food. David didn’t recognize the take-out containers.

“Is this from the café?”

“Oh, no, definitely not. If it’s fried food you want, it has to come from Elmdale.”

“You went to Elmdale for this?”

“Did you or did you not tell me to take fried food seriously?”

“I did,” David says. "But you actually listened, so that's a first."

"I did," Patrick says proudly, genuinely. David is surprised there's no comeback.

David opens a container full of mozzarella sticks and what appears to be homemade marinara sauce, chunky and fragrant. There’s wings with a couple different sauces, popcorn shrimp, skin-on fries, and fried pickles.

“I wasn’t sure about dessert,” Patrick says, “But just in case it was supposed to be on theme I stopped at a food truck and picked up churros.” Apparently the comeback about listening to David is unnecessary because the whole meal is a fucking tease.

“Okay I don’t even care that you’ve done this to mock me because this looks and smells delicious.”

“David,” Patrick says, placing a hand on his bicep to earn his full attention, “I would never mock you with food.”

“Next time, try it without the little smirk and I might believe you.”

“Noted,” Patrick says, making no effort to erase said smirk.

They dig in. David’s plate is about twice as full as Patrick’s, plus Patrick has pulled a salad out of another container and proceeds to cut up one of the undressed wings over the top of it.

“To Bruce Willis,” David says, holding up a mozzarella stick. Patrick taps one of his mozzarella sticks against David’s.

“What movie did you bring?” Patrick asks, remembering they’re in for a double feature.

“I brought Pretty Woman.”

"Is this revenge for Die Hard?” Patrick asked with a grimace.

“Absolutely not. Julia is the quintessential modern leading lady and this film is her doing everything right.”

“She plays a prostitute.”

“Can I remind you that you have selected Die Hard?”

“Yes, but I won the bet.”

“I will not feel shame for exposing you to one of the best romantic comedies of all time. Now are we watching your classic first or mine?” David asks coyly with a little flutter of his eyelids.

“Oh mine for sure,” Patrick says. David watches as he sticks the mozzarella stick in his mouth with more flourish than strictly necessary. _Well, fuck_.

\-----

They’re about a quarter of the way through the first movie, sitting not exactly next to each other on the couch, but not at opposite ends. Patrick has reformulated a plan for how he wants this night to go, but he’s struggling to be patient with David sitting so close. It doesn’t help that David has looked at his phone more than the television.

“David, the deal was you watch the movie with me, not scroll Instagram while I watch the movie.”

“Well you could have at least tried to pick something you thought I would like.”

“How do you know you don’t like it if you don’t actually watch it?”

“I’m a great multitasker,” David says with a smirk. Patrick grins, sliding closer to David on the couch. The way Patrick looks at him, David thinks he might have been wrong to assume this isn’t a date. David holds his breath. He’s suddenly sure Patrick’s going to kiss him. 

Patrick moves closer still, and then just when David thinks, _It’s happening!_ , Patrick snatches David’s phone away. 

“Hey!” David cries, chasing after it until he’s almost on top of Patrick. His hand finds Patrick’s thigh, ostensibly for leverage, but it makes them both pause. Patrick’s pupils are so dark, his breathing heavy. His face is inches away. It would be so easy, David thinks, to lean in and kiss him. Patrick’s eyes flick ever so briefly to David’s mouth. It’s not clear who leans first or farthest but soon their lips are pressed together. David’s hand cups Patrick’s cheek, his rings cool against Patrick’s overheated skin. 

It’s so much more than he imagined, kissing Patrick like this. It’s not enough. Not nearly enough. David tilts his head just enough and Patrick responds, hauling David the rest of the way so he’s in his lap. The press of lips becomes a press of bodies. There are explosions. Neither man knows if it’s the movie or in their heads. Patrick’s hands work their way under David’s sweater, digging into the soft skin at the small of his back. It’s all permission David needs to release to top button of Patrick’s shirt and work his way down his neck, kissing and scraping with his teeth. Patrick’s head falls back and he lets a long, low moan escape his lips. 

That moan is all it takes to make David hard, which reminds him where he is and who he’s with. He pulls back, suddenly unsure. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. He’s not sorry, really, but it feels like what he's supposed to say. 

“Sorry for what exactly? Distracting me from that awful movie or the best kiss of my life?” It will become one of David's absolute favorite things about Patrick, the way Patrick can just say things like that, weighty declarations said lightly, casually. 

“It’s just last night- your fiancé- she,” Patrick figures out where he’s going even though he can’t get there. 

“David, it didn’t work with her because I’m gay.” Patrick pauses like he’s feeling that word in his mouth for he first time. _Maybe he is_ , David thinks. _What if he is?_ “I didn’t know it at the time, but... yeah. Very gay.” He huffs a laugh. David smiles. Relaxes. He’s so fucking cute.

“So that was okay, then?”

“David, did it seem like I wasn’t enjoying it?” Patrick asks, making no effort to hide his exasperation. 

“It did. I was too. Very much. I think I’m just trying to catch up.” David tips his head back and breathes in, trying to regroup. He’s been thinking about kissing Patrick almost as long as he’s known him and now he’s messing it up. 

“Do you want to talk about it more or can I kiss you again?” It’s constructed like one of his snarky comments, but his face is quiet and open. There’s no teasing grin. He’s telling David it’s okay if he needs to talk. That alone makes him lean in and kiss Patrick softly. 

“Kiss me again,” he whispers. It’s different this time, the heat of the moment replaced with the burning of all the moments leading up to this, finally allowed to ignite. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, our two leading men have a lot to accomplish in a short period of time. I'm going to move them forward a little faster than the show. Apologies to Moira and Johnny fans. David is still working through stuff with his parents. Fear not, they'll get closer to the Roses we know and love by the end.
> 
> This AU was inspired by a news story about the last Blockbuster Video, which is still apparently in business in Bend, Oregon, USA.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David and Patrick establish some ground rules (don't worry, not a full binder's worth). Patrick turns out to be good at a variety of activities. David also turns out to be good at a variety of activities. It's not just the ones you're thinking. David and Patrick move too swiftly towards the end of their time together and struggle with what to do with too many spoken and unspoken feelings. More of our favorite Schitt's Creek townies make an appearance. Spreadsheets make an appearance. A leather jacket makes an appearance. A writer attempts to generate less than 20,000 words per chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's my philosophy on ratings. If we are getting into a play-by-play of who is licking what when, that's an E-rated fic. I love those, but that's not what I'm trying to do here. That said, there is mature content of a sexual and implied sexual nature. I hope you enjoy it.

**10\. You are Lovelier This Morning Than You Have Ever Been**

(William Thacker, _Notting Hill_ )

Patrick is shelving returns on Saturday morning. As he puts _Pretty Woman_ back on the shelf in it's new home next to _Notting Hill,_ he can't resist a smile.David has recently reorganized the romance section, grouping films by lead actresses. Patrick was skeptical at first, but people seem to like it. One thing he loves about the video store is that often people find something unexpected, and with this organization scheme of David’s, that’s been happening more and more. Patrick likes the signage David created too. He found some paper of appropriate color and weight (his words) in the back and hand lettered shelf placards with a little bit about each actress, their important roles, their strengths.

Patrick scans down to Renee Zellweger's section and sees that David has indeed reshelved _Jerry Maguire_ next to _Bridget Jones’s Diary_. Again. He plucks it out and moves it back to the sports section where it belongs. Until David learns how to change it in the inventory software, this is a game they will keep playing. Looking at the sports section, Patrick thinks he should ask David to do some other signage for the store, maybe reorganize some of the other genres. David has made a few passive comments about the tsunami of unfortunately colored signage, so Patrick figures David will embrace the task. And as much as Patrick enjoys watching David’s frustration oscillate between Ms. Pac-Man and Mario, it’s in Patrick’s best interest to make David feel like he’s contributing more than sound movie advice. He wants David to like it here. Especially after last night. 

_Last night._ He woke up at five this morning with a memory (a dream?) of stubble scraping against his face. He’s been keyed up ever since, even though all they’d done was some fervent kissing. Okay, maybe a little grinding and groping with the kissing. But mostly it was kissing and some talking. He’s never had that much fun just making out with someone. He feels like he’s still dreaming.

They never made it to the second movie. They technically finished _Die Hard,_ although neither one of them has any idea what happened in the film after their first kiss. They discussed making a second attempt to watch them both (well Patrick said both, David said _Pretty Woman_ ) but ultimately Patrick knows what he’d rather be doing and he doesn’t see the point in pretending they’re going to sit and watch a movie. Not that he has any idea how to start doing to what he’d rather be doing. Maybe he should rent the movie again, see if curling up against David under the guise of watching a movie helps move things along.

Patrick is smiling again (still?). He can’t help it. David Rose kissed him. Or he kissed David Rose. It doesn’t matter. It happened. _Hell yes it happened._

He doesn’t think David is coming in today. Kelsey will be here any minute and then Patrick has a baseball game before meeting up with David for dinner. So he’s surprised when David shows up anyway, carrying two to-go cups from the café.

“Hi,” David says. It’s the same breathy hi he’s started with every day for the past week, except everything is different now.

“Hi,” Patrick returns. David approaches slowly, setting their drinks on the counter. He pecks Patrick softly. Patrick’s eyes fall to David’s lips and he pursues them with his own, needing more.

“Morning, boss,” a friendly voice says. It belongs to a girl striding in from the back room. David groans when Patrick pulls away quickly. The girl is wearing a Rose Video nametag that says Kelsey on one shoulder, a long thick braid pulled over the other.

“Um, hi,” Patrick says, clearing his throat. “David this is Kelsey. Welcome back Kels.”

“I thought you said no making out during store hours,” Kelsey replies coolly with the barest glance at David. Patrick really needs to find some employees who can curb their attitude when the moment calls for it.

“I did say that, yes,” Patrick stalls. He’d caught her making out with her boyfriend a few minutes before closing one Saturday last month. There were no customers in the store, but Patrick felt the need to establish some rules. Rules he was now enthusiastically breaking. 

“Good thing he’s the boss, then,” David supplies. “Anyway, now that you’re here, Mr. Brewer and I have to look over something in the office.”

“Okay,” Kelsey says. “I thought we had a meeting.”

“I’ll be with you in a minute to catch you up,” Patrick says as David drags him back to the office and shuts the door.

“How many other youths work here, exactly?” David asks.

“Just Connor and Kelsey. This is Kelsey’s first day back since last month. She had lice.”

“Ew, what?” David says, horrified. “Ew!” He reaches for his hair and looks wildly around, eyes settling on the couch. Should they burn it? Or was that for bedbugs?

“Relax, David. No one here has lice. It’s been taken care of. Since you were here helping, I even gave her an extra week off just to be safe.”

David takes a few calming breaths to regroup. Patrick waits patiently, corners of his mouth turned up.

“What?” David asks.

“It’s nice. Looking at you is nice,” he says. David twists his mouth to one side and studies the top of his right shoe.

“I didn’t realize there was a no making out during store hours rule,” David says. “Sorry I made you break it.”

“Are you though?” Patrick asks.

“Not really, no,” David says, then puts both hands over his mouth to hide his smile.

“The rule is actually no making out in the store at all, but I didn’t feel I was in a position to correct her.”

“Mm, nope. No, you were not.”

“So… how are you?” Patrick asks.

“I’m gooood,” David draws out, smirking. “You?”

“I feel good.”

“We should probably talk, at some point,” David says.

“We should,” Patrick agrees.

David’s smiling for real now, hands at his sides, which brings Patrick’s eyes back to his mouth, and then they’re breaking rules again. David backs Patrick up until he’s against the door. David is smiling and kissing, something Patrick is realizing he does a lot. Patrick takes advantage of the opening. Once he realizes what Patrick is doing, David tilts his head, and their tongues are sliding against each other. It’s like last night only better, because David knows, now, that Patrick isn’t going to wake up wishing they hadn’t done it.

At some point, Patrick switches their positions, and David feels every hard inch of Patrick as he’s pressed against the door. One of David’s hands tips Patrick’s head back so he can get better access to a spot on Patrick’s neck that he started working on the night before.

“So I think I mentioned I’m conducting a top secret feasibility study,” David says against his neck, and he feels more than hears Patrick’s laugh.

“Mm, you did. Do I get to find out what it’s about now that I let you kiss me?”

“I think _you_ kissed _me_ but yes, I’m prepared to reveal the topic.”

They’re smiling and sort of laughing and trying to tease without too much time between kisses and there are hands places they never had a chance to be last night. David’s a good multitasker but this is all way too much. He tries to pause something so he can concentrate, his hands settling outside Patrick’s shirt, rubbing soothing circles on his back.

“It’s a feasibility study about converting barns to living quarters,” David says cheekily. “Do you know of anywhere I could stay to get some first-hand experience?”

David feels Patrick freeze. David goes cold, suddenly deprived of Patrick against his body as he steps back.

“David-“ Patrick starts, but doesn’t continue.

“Hey, we don’t have to tonight,” David says gently, trying not to panic. “I didn’t mean to- to assume that dinner meant-“

“I want to,” Patrick says, then hisses like he didn’t mean to say it out loud. As much as David enjoys take-charge, self-assured Patrick, he is starting to enjoy the way Patrick’s calm unravels under his hands and lips even more.

“Okay…” David says. He leans back against the door, trying to control a smirk. David doesn’t mind the silence now because he is getting a whole nonverbal show. Patrick’s thoughts race across his eyes like the banner at the bottom of a cable news channel. David can’t remember a time he’s been content to just look at someone like this when he could be kissing them.

“I think there’s something I should tell you,” Patrick starts, nodding as if he’s made a decision in his head. “But I’m worried that once I do tell you, it will change how you feel about… things.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“I haven’t told you what it is.”

“Patrick, based on the little bit I’ve told you about my history, do you really think there’s anything you can tell me to make me stop wanting you?” It’s uncharacteristically vulnerable for David and surprises them both.

“Okay, the thing is, I’ve never done this before. With a guy. Um, like dating or sleeping over or whatever we’re doing. Or kissing even, until last night,” Patrick adds after a beat, head down, daring a glance back up to see David’s reaction.

“Oh. Okay,” David says, swallowing. His head spins back through the previous evening, trying to pick out his missteps based on this new piece of information. Based on the female fiancé two years ago and what seems to be fairly slim pickings in this town, he figured Patrick was new-ish at all this. He didn’t realize he was brand new. He certainly kisses like he knows what he’s doing.

“And before you tick backwards and start obsessing over what you would have done differently, just stop. I wasn't sure if I should tell you because I didn’t want you to treat me differently than you would someone who was- I don’t know, less confused.”

“Are you confused?” David asks, his pitch rising. Because confused was something entirely different from new at this.

“No. Bad choice of words. I’m very, very sure who and what I want. Confused about how to get it,” Patrick amends huskily, stepping back into David’s space. “I’m finding it harder than I realized to get out of my head about the- the technical aspects.”

“Mmmkay,” David says, deciding not to tease him about _technical aspects_ just then, because David is a nice person. On the scale of one to big deal, this is a minus two. To David. Although to Patrick it obviously is a big deal, so David resists the urge to kiss him again, giving him space to talk if he needs it. It’s a move out of Patrick’s playbook, but David’s thinking of adopting it.

“David, that kiss- All of them, last night- That's how I’ve always wanted it to feel.”

He’s looking down at his shoes, and as much as David hates a vulnerable, eye-contact-laden conversation about feelings, he puts a hand to Patrick’s cheek so he’ll look up, back at David.

“We can go slow if you want to go slow, Patrick. I’m very patient,” David says.

“You’re not patient, but thank you.” Patrick leans in and kisses him, David grinning against Patrick’s lips. David thinks he will never, ever get tired of the feeling of smiling and kissing at the same time. Why has he never done that before?

“David I don’t know what I’m ready for,” Patrick says, breaking the kiss. “But that doesn’t necessarily mean slow. It just means I don’t know. I’m 31 and I finally kissed a man for the first time last night. I’m not sure how much more slow I have in me.”

David knows this man’s honesty and trust is a gift. And that whole smiley-kiss thing has David deciding he can give Patrick something in return.

“Well if we’re truth-telling,” David says, “this kind of thing is new for me, too.”

Patrick just gapes at him, trying to reconcile what little he knows of David’s dating history with what he’s just admitted.

“I mean, the kissing and stuff isn’t new. It’s just I’ve never kissed anyone I cared about. Or respected. Or… thought was nice.”

“Oh, so you think I’m nice?” Patrick says, grinning. He can’t resist flustering him a little bit.

“Yes,” David says, squeezing his lips between his teeth to suppress a smile. They look at each other, grinning like fools for too long. It’s interrupted when Patrick’s phone pings.

“I have a baseball game this afternoon, and I still have to get Kelsey up to speed.” Patrick says apologetically, squeezing David’s forearm. “But David, there’s one more thing I think you should know.”

“Okay?”

Patrick takes a duffel bag off the desk chair, nudges past, and stops, his face close enough that David can feel his breath on his ear. When he speaks, his voice is low and filthy.

“Once I get some of the technical aspects figured out, I think you’ll find out I’m not always nice.”

**11\. I Don’t Care if You’re Movin’ Slow or Fast, As Long As It’s In My Direction**

(Jack Twist, _Brokeback Mountain_ )

David leans up against his rental car. Patrick has already alerted him via text that there was a stalled truck blocking the highway near the baseball field and he’s running a few minutes late. Excited for the evening, David has arrived early for a change. So now he’s keeping an eye out for stray elderly cows, tapping his foot against the ground. Waiting. His phone buzzes in his pocket.

 **Alexis, 6:55 p.m.:** how’s the date? _[heart eyes emoji]_

He sighs. It was stupid to tell her about it, but he was so buzzy and nervous-excited and Stevie was busy and he just needed to tell someone.

 **David, 6:55 p.m.** : Hasn’t started.

 **Alexis, 6:56 p.m.** : ****wasn’t it at 7!?!

 **David, 6:56 p.m.** : Yes.

 **Alexis, 6:57 p.m.** : ****so… _[scratching head emoji]_

 **David, 6:57 p.m.** : ****What?

 **Alexis, 6:58 p.m.** : ****it’s 8 oclock david

 **David, 6:58 p.m.** : _[face with rolling eyes emoji]_ I’m in a different time zone.

 **Alexis, 7:00 p.m.** : oops! _[woman shrugging emoji]_ okay, checking back in one hour

 **David, 7:01 p.m.** : Do you really think if the date is going well I’m going to start texting you an hour in?

 **Alexis, 7:01 p.m.** : of course not but if it’s _[thumbs down emoji]_ then you would be getting a text from me at the perfect time

She has a point. Except David is uncharacteristically confident about the date going well. He’s a little nervous maybe, but he’s not worried.

 **David, 7:03 p.m.** : Don’t text me in an hour.

 **Alexis, 7:03 p.m.** : remember!! ground rules first, sexy times second _[blue heart emoji]_ _[black heart emoji]_

 **David, 7:04 p.m.** : _[thumbs up emoji] [middle finger emoji]_

Patrick arrives a few minutes later, still wearing his baseball uniform. David takes in the way the dark green sleeves set Patrick’s arms against the white shirt tucked into snug white pants. None of David’s current Patrick fantasies revolve around sports, but he’s quickly forming a new one. He wonders idly if it’s too soon to discuss role play. Probably.

“Hi,” Patrick says. He tips his cap back and lingers in what was supposed to be a quick peck before unlocking the door. He smells like sunshine and sweat. “Thanks for waiting.”

“Mmhmm,” David says.

“I was planning to shower,” Patrick says once they’re inside. “Okay if I still do that?”

“Sure,” David says, wondering if its too soon to offer to join him. Probably.

“If you want to get bowls and stuff out for dinner, I’ll be quick.”

“Okay,” David says. This is his third night in a row here. David can see and smell that chili is already cooking in the slow cooker on the counter. He knows where the dishes are and it all feels a little domestic for a fling, setting the table while Patrick showers. But it also feels fucking great.

Patrick emerges from the bathroom dressed in his normal jeans and blue cotton sweater ten minutes later, hair damp, skin ruddy from being scrubbed in the warm water. David examines the bookshelf for things they might have in common as Patrick stirs the chili in the slow cooker and checks on cornbread in the oven.

“Is this yours or Mutt’s?” David asks, holding up a copy of _Brokeback Mountain_.

“Not sure,” Patrick says, hoping to get away with it. It’s a stupid thing to say, because now it’s obvious it’s his.

“Please tell me you don’t have a cowboy fantasy,” David says.

“Well I wouldn’t mind riding you at some point, but no. No cowboy fantasies that I’m aware of.” David swallows and glances at Patrick to make sure this is the same man who told him mere hours before that he doesn’t know how to get what he wants. Right now, David would give him pretty much anything he asked for.

“Is it a Heath Ledger thing?” David asks. He’s trying for nonchalance.

“It’s a self-preservation thing. He’s always sort of worked for me. There wasn’t much that did, at least not enough to form a pattern, but... Why? Surely you’ve had a celebrity crush or two.”

“I have, and we had a very nice two weeks in Tuscany until his girlfriend found out and wanted to start a- well a different arrangement. He wasn’t into that.”

“And you were? Actually don’t answer that,” Patrick says smiling, shaking his head. He’s spooning the chili into bowls and cutting cornbread into squares. He holds them up, indicating dinner’s ready, and they sit down next to each other at the stools tucked under the kitchen island.

“Is it the hair?” David asks.

“What?”

“Heath Ledger. Is it the hair?”

“I don’t know,” Patrick says laughing. “I’m not sure I even realized it was sexual attraction.”

“Okay.”

“I do really like _your_ hair. I know that.”

“Oh,” David says with a soft smile.

Patrick has given up trying to make a plan for this evening. The previous two evenings his plan has gone awry and he’s not sure what should be in the plan for tonight anyway. But since they’re at least tangentially on topic, he decides it’s as good a time as any to have the conversation they need to have about what this is going to look like.

“I’m thinking we should come up with some ground rules,” David says, which makes Patrick smile. It’s a more precise way of saying exactly what Patrick’s thinking.

“Okay. Like what?” Good question. David’s not sure he’s ever been in a something like this that's healthy enough to establish ground rules from the start.

“Like what are the rules at the store?”

“If it was just us, I wouldn’t care as much, but since I have employees, I feel like I need to be fair to the expectations I have for them. Which means no fooling around at the store.”

“What about hello and goodbye kisses?”

“Brief hello and goodbye kisses are acceptable and appreciated. What else?”

“I’m leaving in five weeks.”

“I know,” Patrick says. David notices him tense. They both pretend he doesn’t.

“So do you want to date, or just, um, do other-“

“Dating sounds good,” Patrick cuts in. “I know there’s an expiration date here, David. I do. But I want to do this with you because I like spending time with you.”

“You’re not just in it for my body?” David quips, trying to hide that Patrick has torn down another chunk of David's carefully constructed wall.

“Well that too. And the hair. In case that wasn’t clear before, I’m really hoping to get my hands in your hair,” he says. “It’s the whole package, really.” It's sort of sarcastic, but also a little... not.

David disguises his shy smile with a bite of cornbread. A whole section of wall tumbles to the ground.

“Speaking of things related to my body,” David presses on gamely, “would you like move forward until someone says stop, or establish some checkpoints along the way?”

“I think checkpoints. That’s not to say we can’t hit more than one at a time, but I’d like to be able to look back on them and remember them as distinct points, distinct moments with you.”

David nods into a sip of his whiskey, hoping the burn will clear his throat. Absinthe isn't strong enough for this conversation.

“There’s something else,” Patrick says.

“Okay.”

“I- I guess I’d like to try things on you before you try them on me. It’s probably stupid, but if you do them first I’m going to be thinking too much about what you’re doing so I can repeat it.”

“If I’m doing my part right you won’t be thinking at all,” David says, his walls basically a rubble pile. Obviously Patrick is not going to be able to have a boundaries conversation without destroying David’s boundaries, which hardly seems fair.

“And what do you see being a reasonable checkpoint for tonight?” David asks. Patrick tips his glass and rights it, so the whiskey fingers run down the sides. He’s done a little research over the intervening months. He’s spent the day trying to gear himself up to ask for what he wants.

“Hands seems, um, reasonable. Um… mouths would be fine? Clothes… optional.”

“Hmm, that sounds verrry nice,” David says, his whole face smiling. David’s hoping it’s dim enough in the barn that Patrick can’t see the flush that is rising up from his neck. David is not shy when it comes to sex, but he just assumed Patrick would be. If he’s not shy, then-

“You seem nervous,” Patrick whispers, interrupting David’s thoughts. Because he can tell. Of course he can.

“Not exactly,” he says, but his twisted mouth and pinched brow line say otherwise.

“Are you worried you won’t like it?” he asks.

“Very confident I will like it,” David says. That much is true.

“Hmm.” Patrick can tell there’s something David isn’t saying. He waits him out.

“It’s just that you’re sweet. And innocent. I like that about you. But I’m not? I’m not those things. And sometimes I like things that are not very sweet and innocent. What if I stretch you past your comfort zone?”

“Well that’s a idea,” Patrick says, which has David nearly swooning, and then to top it off the little shit winks at him. “David, I’m inexperienced. That’s not the same as innocent.”

“Oh.” David fights his mouth, trying to school the corners back down into a more serious expression. It was hard to keep his composure the way Patrick was looking at him, hungry and impatient.

“And I think I also remember telling you that I’m not all that nice, either.”

“I wasn’t sure if you were being serious.”

“I was 90 percent flirting and 10 percent serious. One of the many things I like about you is that your ego may be fragile but your body seems sturdy.”

“Sturdy?!” David says, not at all sure he likes the sound of that. “So it _is_ about my body, then.”

“I think I said that was part of it, no?” David is fighting laughter and getting hard, all at the same time. They haven’t even made it to the bed and Patrick and his edgy little tongue are doing things to David no one ever has.

“At some point we need to circle back on your definition of flirting. And also sexy talk. Or pre-sexy talk.”

“David?”

“Yes?”

"Anything else we need to discuss?"

"Nothing comes to mind."

“Good. Shut up and kiss me.”

“Ooh, that is not very nice,” David says. Patrick can feel his smile against his lips as David does what he’s told.

They kiss their way over to the couch. It’s familiar territory by now. They find a comfortable position without too much trouble, hands and tongues needy, seeking. Patrick said clothing optional and he apparently meant it, because he’s shedding his own sweater.

“I’d do yours too but I don’t want to mess it up,” Patrick says. It's the only thing he seems nervous about so far. David takes it off carefully and Patrick reaches for it, setting it over the arm of a nearby chair.

“We didn’t talk about bed or couch in the ground rules for this checkpoint,” David says. “Here is great, but a little more room to maneuver would be nice. It’s absolutely your call.”

“Bed is fine,” Patrick agrees. It’s steps away and soon they’re standing, facing one another in front of it.

Patrick places his hands on David’s shoulders and trails them down through the thicket of hair on his chest. He does this two or three times, watching his fingers separate the hair with a small smile. On the way back up the last time, he makes sure to slide over David’s nipples with his calloused hands. David’s body is thrumming.

Somehow in the transition from couch to bed, Patrick has reset. He’s slower now, less frenzied, more intentional. He's dropped a little of his bravado too. He stops moving his hands and rests them at the small of David’s back, tucked into his waistband.

“What?” David asks.

“I just like looking at you.”

“C’mere,” David says, and he steers them to the bed. They lie down on their sides facing each other. David keeps a reassuring hand on Patrick’s hip.

“If you need to go slower, we can go as slow as you want. I don’t need to push,” David says.

“I’m usually a pretty methodical person…” Patrick starts, his voice quiet. He leans forward and nips the soft skin between David’s neck and shoulder.

“Okay,” David said, meaning _go on._

“I like to take my time with things,” Patrick adds pointedly, finishing his little project on David’s shoulder and settling back far enough to search David’s eyes with his own.

“That’s very okay,” David says, biting his lips between his teeth to hide his smile. Patrick thinks it’s very cute that David thinks he’s hiding anything.

“Not what I meant, but noted,” Patrick says, ever patient. “What I’m trying to say is that I might slow us down sometimes to take all of this in, but it doesn’t mean I want to stop. If I want to stop, I’ll say so.”

“That sounds like a very good plan,” David says, no longer joking as he moves in. David reaches for the button on Patrick’s jeans. Patrick rests his head against David’s shoulder, looking toward his hands, watching.

“I am good at plans,” Patrick tries to maintain the levity, nerves rising.

“Mmhmm. I want to know what else you’re good at, Patrick.” David’s voice is a husk, Patrick’s name is handled like a sacred thing on his tongue, and Patrick tries to hang on. David has somehow managed to get Patrick’s pants mostly off in the midst of this, a skill Patrick is going to have to learn, and Patrick kicks them off the rest of the way.

“Probably not good at much, yet,” Patrick confesses, “but I’m very eager to practice.”

“You’re already better than you think,” David said, gasping as Patrick scraped down the small of his back with his fingertips. Patrick reaches for David's hair and uses it to angle his head, moving in, closing the space between them. They are done talking.

\-----

Somewhere between that moment and this, with Patrick’s body pressed against his, warm as he explores him for the first time skin to skin, David remembers what Patrick said about inexperience and innocence. Patrick was maybe less innocent than David assumed, but that didn’t mean-

“Patrick,” he starts, lifting Patrick’s face with a hand under his chin.

“Is this okay?” Patrick asks, his hand stilling on the inside of David’s upper thigh.

“Mmhmm,” David says, nodding vigorously. “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do, just because you know there's an expiration date on this.”

He hates himself for saying it, because he hasn’t wanted someone like this in maybe ever, but he knows he needs to give Patrick an out. He’s promised himself he won’t regret his intimate encounters anymore. It’s important to him that Patrick doesn’t either.

“I know, David. We’re not doing anything I don’t want to do,” Patrick says, like it’s simple. Obvious. Like it’s the kind of thing any well-adjusted person would do. Like if you reach your limit you just say so, because you would never get in bed with someone if you couldn’t trust them to stop when you ask them to.

Patrick is about to go back to the marks he’s making on the soft skin of David’s inner thigh when something else dawns on him.

“David, I don’t want you to let me do anything, _anything_ , to you that you don’t want just because you think I’m expecting some big gay introduction. If you want me to stop, or do something else, or – I don’t know – just need me to pause for a second, just tell me. Okay?”

David nods, blinking away a tear. Patrick sees him, and a look of overwhelming tenderness comes over him.

“I’m gonna need a yes or no,” Patrick says, still tender, one hand resting firmly on David’s knee, the other taking one of David’s hands and intertwining their fingers. “Do you want me to keep going?”

David gives it some thought, because it seems like Patrick wants him to. It’s kind of silly, because David’s been pretty vocal about how agreeable he is to just about anything horizontal, but he realizes no one has ever asked him to say the word, and it makes a lump form in his throat that he can’t quite clear, which is going to complicate his plans to get his mouth around Patrick tonight. 

“Yes,” David says. Then, as Patrick works his way back down, needier this time, hands and lips everywhere, “God yes.”

David can barely think, but as Patrick takes him in his mouth, a satisfied little voice says that David was really fucking right about the capabilities of Patrick’s tongue.

**\-----**

A week later, after David has emptied him in every way possible, Patrick helps David finish, sucking gently as his body trembles through to the end. He slides his slicked fingers out of David’s hole as he releases him from his mouth. They’ve had a lot of practice, and Patrick’s finally managed to swallow down all of David’s come. The look he gives David, like he’s so damn proud of himself, has David pulling their mouths together, searching with his tongue to make sure it’s gone before he praises him. 

“Did your girlfriend appreciate this tongue of yours?” David asks a few minutes later. They’re on their backs next to each other, but he turns his head towards Patrick and reaches for his hand so he can twist their fingers together.

In general, Patrick prefers not to talk much after sex. In his life before David, he just wanted to retreat back into his head. Now, with David, he’s usually exhausted. In contrast, when David’s clothes are off he’ll say things to Patrick, ask things of Patrick, that he would never say in the clothed light of day. So Patrick lets him talk. He’s even starting to like it a little bit, now that he knows it’s coming.

“I believe she was appreciative. I don’t remember liking it nearly this much with her,” he says, bending their intertwined hands toward him and biting David’s knuckle playfully, “but she certainly wanted to do it a lot.”

David smiles and looks back at the ceiling, because he feels translucent after sex with Patrick. The eye contact is too much sometimes. Patrick does like to take his time, David is learning. Patrick takes so much time, he has David whining and needy, and still, he draws it out. The result is that David is having some of the best sex of his life, which is probably why he asks Patrick these questions about his experiences with other people. David has been with a lot of people. He’s never been with anyone quite like this. It helps these unsettling feelings to know this is something different for Patrick too.

“If you didn’t like it… It didn’t bother you to do it? To try to be good at it?”

“I don’t know if I thought about it that way. We went on our first date when we were fourteen years old. She was everything everyone said I was supposed to be looking for… We were so wrapped up in each other by the time we had sex it was hard to separate feelings from desires. Then it doesn’t work and it doesn’t work, and you tell yourself it’s because you haven’t let each other grow. So space seems like it will fix it. You’ll grow apart and back together and that will fix it.”

“And it never fixed it.” David says quietly. Patrick has said as much before. He rolls toward Patrick, trying to show he’s listening. He hopes he’s doing this right.

“Something would happen. A friend’s wedding, a reunion, some family event – our families are close. And I would think okay, we’re older now. Smarter. Grown. Now it will work.”

“But it didn’t. Work?”

“It did,” Patrick says. “Until it didn’t. Until every time it didn’t.”

“So I don’t understand. Why did you always think it would be different?”

“I’m not sure I did. I think I was just really fucking lonely,” Patrick says, wriggling his shoulders like he’s trying to scratch an itch in a tough-to-reach spot. It’s the first time David’s ever heard Patrick say that word, but now’s not the time to point it out. “God, this probably makes no sense to you,” Patrick adds.

“Of course it does,” David says softly, squeezing his hand. He turns towards him and touches Patrick’s features with his thumb, trying to soothe them. He traces the soft skin on his cheekbone, to the little dent below his nose, then across the full lower lip to the lines of his right dimple, which is a little deeper than the one on the left, and then across his jaw and down his neck and back up into a line from his ear to his collarbone. He’s tried this move out twice now, marveling at how Patrick goes pliant. David’s never felt someone relax under his hands like this, trusting and soft. Patrick is quiet, waiting him out. By now, David knows he’s doing it on purpose to try to get David to say more than he would normally say. David lets him get away with it this time.

“I’ve done a lot of stupid things trying to be a little less fucking lonely,” David whispers, the corners of his mouth tipped up just enough to get Patrick’s to copy them. “I mean it does sound like some of the stupid things I did were more fun than the stupid things you did…”

Patrick pinches his stomach hard, making them both laugh. David knows it would be so easy to nudge Patrick’s chin with his thumb, still resting there just below it, and have them both doing a lot less talking. He doesn’t. He’s not even sure why, because that pinch has started an all too familiar ache in him. There’s a lot of distance, David has discovered, between choosing to avoid people who make him feel like shit, and looking for someone that makes him feel like this. He’s been settling his whole life without realizing it. Now he has it, and he doesn’t get to keep it. Which is probably just what he deserves. To know what this is like, and to know it’s not his to keep.

“Did you ever wonder what if? With her, or with other- were there other girls?” David asks.

“A handful,” Patrick says, in a way that sounds like “a thousand,” like he’s a big stud.

“A whole handful,” David teases and gets another pinch for his trouble.

“It always seemed easier to try with her than to try to figure out who I was without her. The breaks didn’t last long.”

“But you must have decided to try without her at some point. You’re here.” David swallows. It’s not a question but it is.

“The last time we broke up, my dad took me for a hike. He said I should think about going away for a while. He thought maybe feeling lost for a bit while would help me find myself apart from her. I’m not sure he expected me to find myself here, but he was right in the end,” Patrick says with a little laugh, scratching David’s chest fondly. He uses that same word as David: “here,” the one that suddenly seems to mean so many things.

“Hm,” David murmurs, turning his head and staring at the wood planks of the barn loft above.

“David.” David turns back to him, hoping Patrick can’t hear his heart thudding. Patrick looks like he is going to say something scary, something too real, and David wants desperately to hear it at the same time as he’s terrified of what will happen to this moment if he does. Patrick studies him, and then leans in, pressing a quiet kiss to his lips.

“Thanks for listening.”

“Mmhmm,” David says. He pulls Patrick close, tracing his fingers up and down Patrick’s spine as they drift off to sleep.

**12\. Do or Do Not. There Is No Try.**

(Yoda, _The Empire Strikes Back_ )

The third week after David returns from New York, he is working on a new poster for the front door in the back room. It’s a quarter to five on a Monday. The store will be closed soon. On Wednesday, it will already be the halfway point of his time with Patrick. They’re not talking about it. They’ve fallen into a pleasant routine, spending their days at the store and their nights at Patrick’s. On Tuesday, when the store is closed, they give each other a little space both day and night. Patrick has baseball and drives to Elmdale to use the laundromat and pick up supplies for the store at the wholesale warehouse. David meets Stevie for dinner and spends the night at the motel. Sometimes he talks to his dad to check in, but he doesn’t say much about the store. He doesn't say anything about Patrick.

David doesn’t have a routine in New York. He sleeps when he wants to, eats when he’s hungry, and fucks who he likes as the mood strikes. Other than his skin care regimen and personal hygiene practices, his life stumbles from one unplanned moment to the next. He likes it this way, or he did until he started orbiting Patrick. Patrick, who gets up at 7 for a morning run, who arrives at the store promptly at 10:45 to open at 11, who rotates the same four lunches day after day, who seems comfortable having the same mundane tasks to open and operate and close the place, who even has his days off planned (Sundays are cleaning and grocery shopping, Tuesdays are laundry and baseball). Patrick’s rhythm is so steady and predictable that David can’t help but move to a similar beat. He loves knowing that around 1 the store will lull after the lunch rush and he’ll find Patrick in back eating a sandwich, a podcast playing quietly over the computer speaker (it’s nice to have a break from movies for an hour, he explains). He loves the way Patrick’s routine begins to anchor his own day. David’s body seems to like knowing what’s coming next too. It feels relaxed, and the feeling is such a contrast to the way David feels in New York that he’s not sure it’s ever felt this easy to just walk and talk and breathe. He starts making his own routines, setting an alarm in the morning (at 9:30, because he’s still David Rose and getting up before 9 is still un-fucking-reasonable). He does a few squats and a 1 minute plank before his shower. He joins Patrick in the back for lunch at 1. He writes in his notebook for ten minutes every night while his moisturizer settles. His skin has never looked better.

\-----

Patrick watches as Bob blows on the contacts of the Donkey Kong Nintendo cartridge and reinserts it. Patrick doesn’t think the blowing actually fixes anything, but it has a nice placebo effect, giving Bob something to do other than complain to him when the system gets glitchy.

“We close in ten, Bob,” Patrick reminds him. Patrick’s stomach is growling. They were busy today, and he didn’t finish his lunch.

Patrick has noticed his routine slipping more often lately and wonders what that means. He finds himself packing in a day’s worth of tasks at the store into the morning hours so he can freely tease and cajole David when he comes in in the afternoon. He’s been switching up his lunch to deprive David of the satisfaction of correctly guessing what he’s eating. He’s hiking a few mornings a week instead of his usual running route, setting out into the foothills on the north side of town to try to ease the restless energy that’s been gripping him these days. Patrick knows his routine is his safety net. It makes him feel like he has control over the day. Now, whatever the plan is, David usually disrupts it. And the strange thing is, Patrick likes when he does it. Maybe it’s because being around David still feels like freedom, and it’s not the imagined freedom of being in control. David is interesting and expressive and funny and sharp and sometimes, when he forgets to hold it back, unbearably sweet. Patrick is starting to feel that whenever things don’t go to plan because David is around, it’s because something better is coming.

Once he’s locked the front door and left Connor to close down the register, he goes in back to see how David’s poster is coming along. David smiles warmly at him before dropping his head back to his task. Patrick turns on the baseball game and keeps him company.

Since Patrick suggested David could redo all the signage in the store, David has been working hard. This poster, which lists all the upcoming events in a chronological, easily followed format, will replace the neon clusterfuck on the door, as David has taken to calling it. Patrick doesn’t disagree with the characterization. The other signs David has done for the displays around the store are getting a lot of attention. Patrick has noticed a few customers wandering the aisles just to read David’s tongue-in-cheek film commentary on the shelf placards. A few have even snapped pictures with their phones. And now, also thanks to David, they’re posting them with hashtags and marking their location at store. Between David’s revamping of the store’s dormant social media pages and Alexis using her influencer status, the store has tens of thousands of new followers. Now tourists actually are coming in to take a look around at the last Rose Video after they take a selfie with the town sign. David designed and ordered stickers that he’s selling to tourists at the counter for a couple bucks each.

“Those stickers have an 87 percent profit margin?” David had asked when Patrick showed him figures representing cost plus markup. Luckily, they were at Patrick’s, so he didn't break any rules when he dragged David to the bed and rimmed him senseless before sliding his tongue deep inside him.

The signs and the stickers and the social media are just the beginning. Once Patrick gave David the okay to make some decisions, he's been powering through project after project. David went to Elm Valley to pick up some movies Patrick purchased from used bookstore that was shuffling their inventory. He came back with the movies and a trunk full of board games, and now he’s in the midst of planning a Games Night for the end of the week. They’re doing signups in groups of six – the ideal number for ultimate game play according to David – and they already have four groups signed up.

David has also devised a lawn chair movie event later in the month using the land behind the store. Patrick was worried about screening rights, but David, on a hunch, called his dad’s assistant and discovered that Rose Corp. already has screening licenses for several films from back when they had big grand opening events at their stores. David just has to pick which one they want to show (Patrick is no longer allowed to pick movies after the _Die Hard_ incident). Tomorrow, when the store is closed, Roland is coming over to mow the scrubby back lawn into a nice turf. Jocelyn has offered to fill a few planters and lay some mulch to brighten up the space. David is apparently paying them by letting them make their own “save” box out of the packed-up contents of the Adult Video room.

“Don’t worry, I still have our box,” he’d assured Patrick later that night, and they’d joked a little bit about Patrick’s flirting technique before David made Patrick come harder than he ever has in his life.

David obtained a gallon of white paint from Stevie at the motel and convinced Kelsey and her boyfriend that it would be a fun, flirty Saturday activity to repaint the dull gray wall on the back of the store so they can use it as a projection screen. And since they’re technically outside the walls of the store, he may have reminded them that certain rules don’t apply. He even convinced Connor, who tends to put David off his game, to source a projector from the school. The whole thing, the scale of this, the coordination, the way he's motivated people to help, his ability to obtain free or almost free assistance, has Patrick seeing David in a whole new light. When David is interested in something, David gets shit done. If Patrick stops to think about it, it’s almost as if David is doing the opposite of sabotaging the store. But that thought leads to lots of other complicated thoughts, so he usually avoids that line of thinking altogether.

As David works on the poster, his pens are making pleasant tapping and swishing sounds. He has an array of them nested in a case at an angle with the caps pointing towards him so he can pick the right thickness and shape as he forms the letters, switching between them as he works. He says he’s not an artist, but Patrick disagrees. The signs are done by hand but the graphics David has drawn are works of art. They’re precise but expressive, with just enough variation in the patterns and letters to make it clear it’s not done by a computer.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” Patrick asks.

I dated a calligrapher once,” David says, not looking up.

“You know, David, I keep hearing stories about skills you’ve picked up from the people you date. Should I take it personally that you haven’t tried once to learn a summation formula in one of my spreadsheets?”

“It’s an equals sign, sum, and then the boxes you want to add in parentheses,” David says. “It’s not that hard.”

He realizes he’s said too much when there’s no snarky response. He looks over at Patrick, who is just staring with his mouth open.

“Do you know others?” Patrick finally manages to push out a follow-up question.

David looks back at the poster, pretending to continue working as he hides a soft smile.

“I think I can do a counting formula. Set filters on columns. Um… I can make one of those graphs that looks like the reception bars on my phone.”

“A bar graph,” Patrick offers, his voice hoarse. He licks his lips.

“A bar graph. The fact that this is doing something for you is concerning,” David says, gently teasing.

“It’s not the formulas and graphs,” Patrick says. It’s a little bit the formulas and graphs. “I didn’t realize you were paying attention.”

“I’m paying attention,” David says. “You’ve learned a few things from me too, Mr. Brewer,” he adds, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Patrick considers breaking his own rule and hauling David back into the office to make a demonstration of all the things he’s learned. The store _is_ closed after all.

“Can I take you out to dinner tonight?” Patrick asks instead.

“Okay,” David says, taken aback. Despite agreeing that dating could be part of this, they haven’t really been on a proper out-to-dinner date.

“Boss, the till is off again,” Connor calls from the checkout counter. “I counted it twice.”

“Coming,” Patrick says, heading for the front of the store.

“Oh you will be,” David snarks, giving Patrick a dirty smile as he passes.

Patrick has to stop at a display on his way up to the front, pretending to reorder the entire shelf that it now takes to house the store’s expanding Star Wars collection. Once he feels confident that his pants are reasonably flat again, he goes to help Connor with the till.

**13\. Fasten Your Seatbelts**

(Margo Channing, _All About Eve_ )

Patrick picks David up at the motel before dinner. He’s changed his clothes. He’s in all black under a leather jacket and for a minute Patrick considers pulling him back into his room for an appetizer. Patrick feels a little silly in his navy blazer, but he doesn’t really have date attire. And anyway, David’s made it clear he’s not here for Patrick’s fashion choices.

They go to a little Greek restaurant in Elmdale. They talk and banter and it feels like those first few days, like there’s a promise in the air that something more is happening here.

“I’ve been wondering about something,” David starts tentatively as they’re walking back to the car.

“Does it have to do with checkpoints?” Patrick says.

“Um, yes, actually,” David says. It still catches him by surprise that he and Patrick are so often on the same page, even if they're sometimes in different books.

“I want to feel what it’s like to be inside you. Is that something you’re interested in?” Patrick asks. It’s that perhaps-we-can-go-to-the-farmer’s-market voice that goes right to David's groin, which is just not fair.

“Verrry interested,” David says. “When, Patrick?”

“Soon, I think. Definitely soon.” David smiles wickedly at him in return. Patrick loves this smile. It means David has either just done or is thinking of doing something debauched to Patrick. Patrick’s pretty sure he has his own version of that smile. He wonders if David has figured it out. He wonders if David can tell it’s the smile he’s displaying now.

They’re driving back and David notices that Patrick is tracing the stitching around the curves of the gear shift. It seems like he’s just fiddling, like maybe he’s nervous. He’s using a light touch, but it's methodical, first his pointer, then middle finger, then ring finger, and back to his pointer, following the stitching around the curve at the front and down each side in sequence. Once David notices it, he can’t stop watching. David sees the look on Patrick’s face, even though he’s looking at the road, and suddenly he knows what Patrick is doing. It’s the look he gets when he’s intentionally working David up. David smiles to himself and imagines Patrick touching something else with that feathery touch, up, around and down. Finally, they’re almost back to the barn. David’s already hard and starting to leak. And then, because Patrick’s obviously starting to internalize how really fucking good at all of this he is, he skips the last turn and keeps driving. David knows for sure it’s on purpose when he sees the corner of Patrick’s mouth curl up. He squirms in his seat, wondering how long Patrick is going to draw this out.

“Are you uncomfortable, David? You can touch yourself if you need to,” Patrick says like he’s just concerned for David’s health is all, his salacious fingertips never stopping as they trace up and around and down and up and around and down, one after another. David does touch himself. He has to. Then, without warning, Patrick slows and pulls into a driveway. He wraps his hand around the gear shift and pulls backwards slowly, thumbing the round surface, putting the car in reverse to turn around. He slides his palm suggestively over the top before he wraps his hand around the whole thing again to put the car back in drive, and finally, finally, they’re heading in the right direction. Patrick reaches over and takes David’s hand.

“That’s enough now David. Save the rest for me.”

“You are definitely not nice.”

\-----

When he finally pulls up in front of the barn, David is out the door before Patrick can put the car in park. He meets Patrick on his side of the car and drags him to his front door by the lapels of his jacket, lips and hands clashing. David is so focused on his goal, he forgets to check for livestock.

“I can’t unlock the door like this,” Patrick says with a touch of irritation, putting a hand on David’s mouth. He’s created a fire-breathing monster. He’s being consumed.

David growls low against his hand and twists his head slightly, sucking Patrick’s thumb in his mouth.

“Fuck, David,” Patrick gasps. David doesn’t take his eyes off Patrick, sucking lightly, watching Patrick’s irritation fragment and fall away until he’s as desperate as David is.

“You should be careful what you start, Mr. Brewer,” David says, pleased to be on more level ground, even if that ground is shaking.

Patrick finally gets the door open. The undressing is messy and rushed. Patrick tries to help David at the same time David tries to help Patrick. Clothes get twisted together before they finally come off. Patrick goes to straighten up David’s things, but David reaches out and wraps a hand around his arm.

“Leave it. Just this time. Leave it.”

David sits down on the bed, legs wide, hard and leaking. The bed is low enough that Patrick can step just close enough to use the hairs at the base of his cock to tease the tip of David’s. He doesn’t remember when he noticed this alignment, but it’s the first time he’s trying this with it. He keeps enough distance so the touch is like a whisper. David groans and dips his head into Patrick’s sternum. Patrick braces against it so he can’t get closer and starts to sway. Thanks to Patrick’s little detour, David is running out of leash. He needs to move this along before he embarrasses himself. Patrick is still holding him off, still teasing the tip of his cock, but David has been playing games like this a lot longer than Patrick has. He tips his head and catches one of Patrick’s nipples between his teeth. Hard.

“Fuck, David,” Patrick’s breath hitches and he bucks toward David, giving him the friction he’s seeking. Since Patrick’s playing dirty tonight, David was thinking about trying something new. There’s no time for that now. He leans backwards, taking Patrick with him. Patrick tips forward harder than either of them expect. Unable to find a good place for his hands, he faceplants into David’s chest with a “hmrumph.”

“For someone who’s supposed to be good at sports, you’re not the most coordinated. You okay?” David asks.

“Ow,” Patrick says, holding his nose. He’s trying not to laugh though, so it can’t be too serious.

“Need me to give you a minute?” David asks, an eyebrow raised.

“Don’t you dare,” Patrick says, shaking it off and giving David a quick nip on his shoulder.

Once they’re roughly aligned, David takes them both in his hand. Patrick’s tongue explores David’s mouth to the pace David is setting. The feeling of David shuddering against him, the feeling of David’s mouth stilling against his, overcome with the release, has Patrick coming too.

\-----

On Wednesday afternoon, Patrick finishes ringing up _All About Eve_ for Ronnie after hosting her Women’s Business Association meeting. It's their first private event in the Adult Video room turned Rose Video Lounge. She’s having one of her movie discussion nights tomorrow, and Patrick offers to let her take an extra bottle of wine they didn't use for the function. Patrick and Ronnie don’t always get along, but he appreciates her hosting her event at the store and figures he can worm his way further into her good graces with free booze. He slides the film to the end of the counter past the security stanchions while David hands over the wine and finally they’re alone again. Apparently being surrounded by smart, accomplished women has inspired David to prod, again, about Patrick’s previous sexual experiences.

“It just wasn’t a priority to figure out why it wasn’t good sometimes,” Patrick tries to explain again.

“Why the hell not?” David asks. Patrick shrugs.

“I was having sex. Regular, fun enough sex. And when I had thoughts or feelings about men, or wondered if it might be better with men, it just seemed like it wasn’t worth blowing everything up just to try. I’m an only child. There's a lot of plans and expectations all on me. I figured one warm, tight place is probably as good as any other so what difference did it really make? What?” Patrick asks David, whose hands are clamping his upper lip down to his chin to keep from interrupting.

“Nothing.”

“Okay, it’s obviously something.”

“I just can’t wait to show you the difference.”

Patrick’s face went blank. He swallowed.

“Look, I’ve experienced a range of different warm, tight places, as you so elegantly put it. There are similarities from a purely, um, sensory, um, experience, although maybe not as much as you think. But Patrick, being with someone you’re sexually attracted to makes a big difference.”

“And where would I find someone who fits that description?” Patrick asks, because apparently he can be totally in over his head and still an asshole.

“I have some ideas,” David says, pinching the seams at the shoulders of Patrick’s shirt.

“I’m sure you do.”

Patrick leans in and kisses him, sweet at first, growing more urgent.

“When?” David moans, not meaning to say it out loud. Not meaning to pressure.

“Connor’s coming in after school for the closing shift. If it’s slow, maybe I can take off early,” Patrick says, working his way down David’s neck before pulling away, remembering the last time one of his employees caught him breaking the no-making-out-in-the-store policy.

“Imma spend the afternoon spreading rumors the store has bedbugs,” David says, straightening his sweater and backing towards the door like he’s off to tell the first person he sees.

“Switch out bedbugs for a broken air conditioner and I’ll let you go,” Patrick says, and David realizes his hands are still hitched in David’s waistband.

“That’s a compromise I’m willing to make,” David says, grinning into another quick kiss.

“See you tonight, David,” Patrick says, his voice low and eyes dark. A customer has just walked in, or David thinks Patrick might say fuck the rules and lock the front door so they can start now.

“I’m sorry, the guy can’t come fix the A/C until tomorrow,” David says loudly. “You’ll just have to deal with being very, very hot until then.”

David winks and slides his sunglasses on his face, and then he’s out the door and striding toward the café.

\-----

The rumor about the broken air conditioning doesn’t work. Bob calls Gwen and tells her it’s fixed, and she calls the entire county apparently, which undoes all of David’s work. The store is, of course, packed. It’s been like this for the last few days. Between handling snack and drink purchases, setting up gaming equipment, renting board games, and of course, videos, Patrick and Connor have their hands full. Things finally slow down around eight o’clock. Connor is already scheduled to close, so Patrick decides to wait another twenty minutes to make sure things don’t pick up again before he feels comfortable leaving him. He’s been texting David all night to keep him updated on his departure. He sends him another message.

 **Patrick, 8:09 p.m.** : Leaving in ten. So much for getting off early. Still want to meet up?

 **David, 8:10 p.m.** : I can still get you off late _[smirking face emoji]_. Meet you at your place.

On the drive home, Patrick considers picking up some food for a late dinner and opts to make something quick when he gets home instead. When he gets there and sees David waiting, leaning up against his rental car, Patrick forgets all about food. He had a protein bar at seven. It’s is going to have to be good enough.

“Hi,” David says when Patrick gets out.

“Hi,” Patrick says back. “Let’s go inside so the moths don’t eat you.”

“I should have never told you about that,” David calls out. He takes a small paper bag out of his trunk and follows Patrick inside.

“So…” David starts, once Patrick toes off his shoes and puts his laptop bag away. “It was busy?”

“Insane. I can’t think of a time we’ve had that many people in the store on a weeknight without anything special going on.”

“Mmm,” David says. “I bet you’re tired.”

“My feet are tired,” Patrick says, pulling David close to him. “Do we need them for anything we’re about to do?”

“We can definitely make accommodations,” David says, grinning.

“Good.”

By now, they know their way out of clothes and into bed. Patrick reaches for the lube on the nightstand and notices David has already put a couple of condoms next to it. He takes one and sets the bottle and the condom on the bed next to David’s hip, and then lowers himself over David. In the last few weeks, Patrick has compiled a mental list of things that he never realized he wanted during sex, some they’ve done, some they haven’t yet. Being able to drop his full weight over David’s well-made body is near the top of the list of things he likes that they have done, he thinks, sinking down and finding David’s mouth.

David knows by now that Patrick needs a little time when they’re reaching a new checkpoint, so he doesn’t rush them past these long, searching kisses. After a few minutes, maybe longer, Patrick props himself back up and teases David, fingers tickling up and down his chest, pressing over the soft skin at his hips, scraping over his nipples.

“Lift,” he says, helping David raise his hips as he slides a pillow underneath him.

“Have you been doing research without me?” David asks, grinning.

“No,” Patrick says, reaching for the bottle. “I concluded an initial research phase before we met. I’m now in the investigation phase.”

“Hot,” David says, rolling his eyes. “Find anything good?”

“A few areas worth exploring further,” Patrick smiles, heavy-lidded as he slicks a wet finger into David slowly, letting David adjust.

Convinced he’s successfully distracted Patrick from his nerves, David tips his head back and lets Patrick open him up. He looks up when he hears the condom wrapper.

“Hey, do you want any guidance?” David asks. “I’m easy either way.” That earns him a wry smile. 

“I want it to be good for you,” Patrick says. “Just tell me if I should do something different to make it good for you.”

“You’re going to be so good,” David says into a kiss. David pulls his knees up while Patrick takes care protecting and lubing himself. David’s expecting him to drop down again but he leans back, sitting on his heels. David’s about to ask him what’s wrong, and then he remembers that Patrick does this sometimes. He slows them way down and drinks in the moment. David doesn’t know how he does it. He feels like he’s rioting out of his own skin when Patrick looks at him like this.

“Patrick,” he whines.

 _David_. It’s the only thought Patrick has, looking at the man ready and open in front of him. He can see that David needs him to continue, so he lines himself up and begins a slow descent into the deep, warm center of a whole new world.

\-----

Please tell me that was better than ‘fun enough’?” David says later when Patrick hands him a warm cloth for his ass, using a second cloth to clean David’s come off their chests. Patrick laughs.

“For sure,” Patrick says. They settle with heads at opposite ends of the bed, and David starts rubbing Patrick’s aching feet, this thumbs moving in firm, soothing circles. Patrick moans happily as his body relaxes. 

“And do we have a verdict on warm, tight places?”

Patrick just laughs, scrubbing his hands over his face to hide the flush. It doesn’t work, he’s pink down to his ribcage. 

“Not the answer I was looking for,” David says.

“I might need more time to do a thorough evaluation.”

“Hmm. I think I can accommodate that.”

“How’s tomorrow?”

“I’m open,” David says, his lip catching between his teeth like he wants Patrick to think he’s embarrassed by how agreeable he is.

“I’ll pencil you in.”

**14\. Your Future Hasn’t Been Written Yet**

(Doc Brown, _Back to the Future_ )

Patrick wakes up Wednesday morning, a week later, and sees David crouched naked on the floor looking for his shoes.

“It was so bad you’re sneaking out, huh?” Patrick asks, and David loves the confident tilt of his smile like he knows how fucking good it was. How good it always is. It’s not that Patrick is particularly skilled, although he’s definitely made progress. It’s that he’s a brutal combination of responsive and attentive. 

The day before, Tuesday, they usually take a day off from the store and each other, but now that there’s only two weeks left, every day feels important. And so after dinner with Stevie, David found his way to Patrick’s door without really even thinking about it, because if there’s only fourteen days, he’s not skipping a single one. That doesn’t change the fact that this unplanned sleepover has left him without some essential hygiene items.

“It’s just, morning breath and bed head and I thought-“ David stops mid-sentence because Patrick’s eyes are dark and they’re raking over him.

David crosses back to the bed, dropping the pants he’s holding, and let’s Patrick pull him in.

“You don’t have to fix things for me,” Patrick whispers.

“Mmkay.”

“I’m not here because you’re perfect,” he says, like he needs David to believe it, not just agree.

“ _You’re_ perfect,” David whispers.

“I’m not,” Patrick says.

“You’re perfect for me,” David amends. He’s just said way too much and they both know it. Patrick slows his already lazy exploration. If he says it back, or anything remotely in the same key, David really will leave. He might never come back.

So instead he kisses the tender skin along David’s collarbone and whispers, “Thank you, David,” and hopes David knows he’s grateful for so much more than the one way-too-much slip of the tongue.

\-----

On Friday, ten days before he boards a plane back to New York, David is making the final preparations for the lawn chair movie night. Stevie is helping in her own way, which is to say she’s lounging in a plastic deck chair they borrowed from Dick Sinson and critiquing everything David does. She’s a royal pain in the ass. He’s going to miss her terribly.

“So how’s your boyfriend these days,” Stevie asks. “Now that he’s spending so much time at home with you, I hardly see him.”

“Don’t use that word. He’s not my boyfriend,” David says sternly, even though the word has a little warm spot spreading in his chest.

As much as he’s trying to stay in the moment, he’s already projecting ahead to when this thing he and Patrick are doing comes to its inevitable conclusion. He’ll never be the same, he thinks. He’ll never be able to get everything he needs from one person the way he is now. He’ll never be able to do something casual without knowing what it’s like to be serious with someone, about someone, even though technically this isn’t serious. He’ll never find someone else who will enjoy figuring him out the way Patrick does, like each new thing he learns is delightful, like he’s making a fucking list of everything David likes, everywhere he wants to be touched, and then spends each night ticking it off, shuffling the order, and adding to it. So David decides he’s going to take advantage of what he has now. He knows it’s precious and special and unique just like he knows it’s temporary.

“Kind of seems like you like that word, _boy-friend_ ” Stevie prods, dragging it out.

“It’s not about liking or not liking the word. If he’s my boyfriend, we have to call what is happening in ten days a break-up, and I fucking hate that word. He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Where is he today, anyway?”

“He’s looking at apartments with Ray. I think the guy who owns his place is coming back soon.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t ask if you wanted to go look with him.”

“Why would he? We both know I’m leaving.”

“Maybe you should consider staying,” she says.

“He hasn’t asked me to stay,” David says.

“Does he need to?”

“Yes!” David says. "What am I going to do, live in a motel indefinitely and hope for the best?"

“And would you stay, if he asked?” she says, sitting up in her chair.

“I don’t know. No. Probably not. It’s good now, so of course it would be fun to stay. But in another month or two, he’ll be tired of me and then I’ll have stayed for nothing. Better to go now before it gets more complicated.”

“How do you know he’ll get tired of you?” she asks. He’s starting to squirm a little, because their friendship thrives in the comfortable realms of snark and sarcasm, not sincerity and sentiment.

“Everyone gets tired of me.”

“I don’t.”

“Well you have a whole day’s head start on him, so.”

Stevie can tell David has reached his limit. He doesn’t want to think about leaving, much less talk about it.

“Wanna share?” she asks, holding up a baggie and a lighter.

“Mmhmm. Yes.”

\-----

Patrick follows Ray around a sparse studio apartment. He’s not really listening as Ray talks about bathroom doors and step in closets. He learned how to tune him out when he was renting a room at Ray’s house/office/studio. Patrick likes the place. It has a nice brick fireplace, but otherwise there’s nothing special about it. He imagines David would hate it, and then reminds himself, again, that David doesn’t get a say because David is getting on a plane in ten days. Ever since the latest checkpoint, Patrick has been struggling to keep his feelings in line.

Patrick knows that this thing with David – whatever this is – is not smart. But Patrick has never claimed to be smart. It’s a conclusion people jump to because he’s pretty good at pretending he has his shit together. He’s capable and organized and so people assume smart too. He got mostly Bs in school. Which, okay, that’s not not smart, but it leaves a little room to not have all the answers sometimes. And it’s best to ignore for the moment that the Bs were Bs instead of As because he was trying to keep busy with sports and activities so he didn’t have to pay attention to a barrage of frustrating thoughts in his personal life. Here in the present he figures he and David are getting a solid A in chemistry. The circumstances are a little messy though, okay a lot messy, and so maybe that’s a C for execution. That’s still a B average, and you have to be at least a little smart to get Bs, so really Patrick figures they’re ahead of the curve.

But he can grade and evaluate all he wants. This – whatever this is – is ending in ten days and he knows it’s going to break him and still he’s letting himself get buried in everything that is David Rose. David is going back to New York. Patrick wants to ask him to stay, but why torture them both when he knows David will say no but feel at least a little bad about it? David talks about New York sometimes, and it just reminds Patrick that he has a whole life there that’s vastly different from Patrick’s life here. He’s not staying in this little town he can’t even bring himself to say the name of just because he’s enjoyed a few weeks with some nice but not always that nice guy. And Patrick knows that’s not fair either, because David cares about him. He’s not some guy to David. He knows that. But David’s still leaving, and Patrick will have to find a way for it to be enough that they had this time, at least. Enough that some day David will talk with someone he loves honestly, dropping his usual self-deprecating tone, about people he’s been with. And Patrick knows David will have painful stories and plain old fucked up stories, and then on the other side will be Patrick. _Patrick was different_ , he hopes he’ll say. _Patrick was the first person who showed me I deserved better._

And okay, he’s giving them an F for execution because this whole franchise agreement imposed expiration date thing is a disaster, and that brings their average down to a C or a D, but that’s okay. Patrick can hurt for a while when this inevitably ends if it means that sometime, somewhere, David lets himself fall for someone who deserves him. Even if it’s not Patrick. Which is bullshit, an increasingly more ornery part of Patrick’s addled mind supplies, because Patrick already can’t imagine his life without David. And he sure as hell doesn’t want some person in the future to be the person for David that Patrick wants to be.

Somehow he has to ask David to stay. It’s the only way he can live with it if he decides to go.

**\-----**

The lawn chair movie night is a huge success. The back lot is packed and Roland and Ronnie drag a few traffic barriers over from the lot at the town hall to allow the overflow to spill out onto the street. They hadn’t planned for this many people so a good portion of their guests can’t even hear the dialogue in _Back to the Future_ , but it doesn’t matter. They’re here for the people around them as much as the movie.

David stands near the back of the lot and looks out over the crowd. Now that David’s been here for several weeks, he understands more about why this Rose Video is still around. This town is unique, a place where people still seek out interaction, where amateurism is celebrated and simplicity venerated. This is the kind of town that understands why a video store, albeit one doing a lot more than loaning videos, is a different experience all together than streaming at home. The video store has become a community center in a place that measures its worth by the strength of its community. But the video rentals, the store’s original purpose, is a piece of it too. He’s surprised by the number of customers who make use of Patrick’s extensive collection on a weekly basis, from Ronnie’s weekly film discussions to Ted’s senior center movie nights to Ray’s classic film review blog (“And soon to be accompanying podcast!” he announced excitedly the last time he was in the store).

More than any of that, though, he thinks people come for Patrick. Patrick, who is at this very moment laughing with Connor across the yard. Connor, who hasn’t cracked so much as a sympathetic smile at David the entire time he’s been here, is nearly doubled over with mirth. Patrick has an open-hearted quality that draws people in. It’s warm and peaceful in his presence, even if his presence comes with detestable avocado-colored walls or an actual fucking barn loft overhead. It’s definitely that way for David, but it seems like everyone feels better around Patrick to some degree. He can see why the half the people who stop in every day bring their movies back unwatched. Patrick allows people to be themselves, acts like he genuinely enjoys them for who they are, perhaps because he knows what it’s like to escape from drowning in others’ expectations. For someone who isn’t from here, who claims to feel uprooted sometimes, he certainly belongs. If things don’t work out, and Patrick loses the store, David could probably help him find a job in New York. But the way Patrick is here, the way people are with him… David’s not sure he would go. Not sure he should go. So he doesn’t even want to ask, in case he would go just for David.

Patrick looks up and their eyes meet across the crowded lawn. He smiles, close-mouthed, and raises his eyebrows in pleased disbelief at the whole thing. David knows how he feels. He feels it too. It’s a good night.

\-----

When they get back to Patrick’s after the movie, Friday has tipped into Saturday. It’s late, and David’s body aches from standing all day and all night. They don’t have a ground rule about going to bed and holding each other while they drift off to sleep without getting naked and messy first. Still that’s all he wants for the night, and that scares him.

“Will you sit out here with me for a bit?” Patrick asks, sensing that David is a little on edge.

“Um, are the goats-“

“In for the night. And I left the lights off on the barn so that should be an all-clear on moths.”

“Okay,” David says, because how can he not after that?

Patrick pulls lawn chairs they never got to use during the movie out of the trunk and sets them up in the small clearing in front of the barn. They sit quietly, and David tips his head back to look at the stars. He’s seen stars before, out at the Palm Springs house and occasionally when he vacations far enough awy from the city, but those night skies are nothing like this one. The only time he remembers seeing this many stars was on a field trip as a kid, sitting under the dome of a planetarium.

“If the DeLorean was real, is there a part of your life you would you go back to?” Patrick asks.

“I don’t know,” David says, because the only answer he can think of is, _I’d go back four weeks and do this all again with you._ He’s not sure it’s his final answer, but he knows it’s definitely not an answer he can say out loud.

“What about you? Where’s your DeLorean headed?” David thinks he knows what Patrick will say. He doesn’t.

“I’d go back to the Young Professionals Mixer at the Rose Video Management Retreat in Vancouver seven years ago and ask you to have dinner with me.”

“Oh my god,” David says, the words slicing into the quiet night. “You were at that event?”

“I was,” Patrick says. “I didn’t think of you this way back then. I wasn’t here yet.”

“And what do you think would have happened when you asked me out?” David asks.

“I don’t think you would have been into me. But if you had, we could have had seven years of this.” David feels his stomach drop. No one has ever wanted seven months of him, much less seven years.

“I definitely would have been into you. Although to be fair in those days I don’t think I ever said no to a sexual opportunity. I’m not sure you would have made it seven years with the person I was back then,” David says.

“I would have,” Patrick says with what seems like too much confidence, even for him.

“I was not a nice person,” David says.

“You’re not that nice now, either,” Patrick points out, getting a playful swat in return.

“See!” he says, grabbing the offending hand as his proof and weaving their fingers together.

“As I’m the only one of us who knows that David, you’ll have to trust me,” David pushes.

“Well even so, I really, really like this David,” Patrick says, and David’s stomach is swooping again.

“Me too,” he says, surprising himself. He wonders if he can hold on to this version of David when he goes home, or if this is a version that only exists with Patrick.

They sit quietly under the stars for a while.

“I’m exhausted,” Patrick says.

“Mmm,” David agrees.

“I don’t know how this fits with our ground rules, but if you wanted to just sleep tonight, I would be okay with that. Or I can drive you home if you prefer.”

“Sleep is good,” David says. “If you’re worried about the ground rules I can wake you up tomorrow using a technique that I think you’ll appreciate.”

“Very excited to see what you come up with,” Patrick responds as he stands and stretches, even though he’s too tired to anticipate what it might be. They mumble their way through changing into pajamas and getting ready for bed. Patrick is normally the big spoon, but this time David pulls him in close against his body. Patrick drifts off quickly, and David can feel his breathing change, becoming slow and deep.

“Even if I wouldn’t have gone out with you at that management retreat,” David says, “I really, really like this Patrick.”

**15\. There Wasn’t One More Thing That You Could’ve Done...**

(Coach Gaines, _Friday Night Lights_ )

“How’s it looking?” David asks the following Wednesday. There’s an hour left before close, two days until the end of the quarter, and Patrick is running the quarterly metrics on his laptop at the red checkout counter. The numbers will be preliminary, but they won’t change by more than one or two tenths, Patrick says. If it’s below 2.8 or above 3.2, they’ll have their answer. They’ve known from the start that it’s unlikely the numbers top 2.6 percent, which has been the high point for months.

David doesn’t think he can bear it if he has to get on a plane the same day Patrick finds out he’s losing the store. He hopes it’s clear now so they have some time to deal with the fallout. David’s turning the store’s copy of _Friday Night Lights_ in his hand over and over nervously. Once they’re done here, he’s agreed to let Patrick show him a sports movie, with the caveat that it should be one David might like. They picked this one together. He’s hoping it will lift Patrick’s spirits if the news is bad. David paces as Patrick clicks around in one of his spreadsheets, and it reminds David of that first day back in his office, his first glimpse into Patrick’s calm, systematic mind. He wonders how on earth the universe has concluded that he should get to borrow this man for these few precious weeks.

“Huh,” Patrick says. He turns the laptop towards David, with a document open that says “Preliminary Quarterly Report” at the top. He can’t tell anything from Patrick’s reaction.

“What am I looking at?” David asks. Still silent, Patrick points to a box in the summary field at the bottom. David reaches over and takes Patrick’s hand, squeezing hard.

Next to a line that says “Quarterly Profit Margin,” is a bold green number: 3.7%.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you for for all your comments on Chapter 1. Thanks for sticking with it.


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Running out of time, Patrick and David approach another checkpoint. Rose Video begins navigating a complicated business transaction. Patrick and David have a difficult conversation. As per usual, things that should be said are not adequately said. Angst ensues. Stay with me, the end is sweet. Also, a writer simultaneously spoils the endings of “Friday Night Lights” and “Sleepless in Seattle” in the name of banter.

**16\. …Can You Live in That Moment, As Best You Can, with Clear Eyes and Love in Your Heart?**

(Coach Gaines, _Friday Night Lights_ )

“So-” David’s not sure what to say, exactly. “Mmm. What do you-“ He sets _Friday Night Lights_ on the counter. He’s afraid he’ll drop it. Or maybe crush it by tapping it too excitedly against the red laminate. He rests his elbows on the counter and cradles his face in his hands, squeezing his mouth, staring at the number on the screen.

“I have a suggestion,” Patrick says. He saw the way the numbers were shaping up as he complied the report so he’s had maybe two extra minutes to adjust to the number in front of them.

“Mmhmm,” David replies. It’s about as coherent a thought as he can make at the moment.

“Let’s just close this up for the night. Tomorrow you have to call- I don’t know. Someone, I assume. Your dad, probably. And I need to go through some paperwork. And um, probably actually hire a lawyer,” Patrick says as it’s dawning on him. “I wonder what kind… contract law?” He thought he had a nice little plan worked out but now that he’s trying to put words to it he can’t seem to give it structure.

“Come back to ‘Let’s just close this up for the night’,” David says, trying to help him out.

“Yeah. Uh, so let’s just close this up for the night. I believe you promised me a movie,” Patrick said

“And you promised me a pizza,” David nods.

“And you promised me a blowjob.” David’s face splits into a quick grin.

“I did,” David says. He’s finding his footing now. Movie, pizza, blowjob. Those are things he can get his head around. “Although to be fair, that’s when I thought you were going to be sad. So maybe I should be the one getting the blowjob.”

“Are you sad?” Patrick asks, incredulous. “This is your doing.”

“No. No it’s not.” Oh god. Is it?

“David. I have been running this store for two years. I worked here with Carl for a while before that. The only time I’ve seen a number like this is when there was some kind of maintenance work being done on the main utility lines into town and the internet was unreliable for three weeks.”

“Okay, but what happened?” David asks.

“What happened?” Patrick asks, it’s almost a squawk. His cute brown eyes are blown wide. David’s not sure he’s ever seen him worked up like this outside the bedroom. “Rose Video Lounge happened. Games Night happened. Lawn Chair Movie Night happened. Hashtags happened. Overbearing film recommendations on fancy custom signage happened. You happened, David. You and your brilliant mind and your beautiful face.”

“Well that’s-“ David starts, but he’s not sure how to finish because, my god.

“Yes?” Patrick asks.

“Okay for one, it does kind of sound like you owe me a blowjob. So.” David twists his mouth to the side because he knows it makes Patrick smile. It helps. Patrick’s face shudders into a frustrated laugh and he scrubs his hands hard over his eyes. “Also, I now have to find a way to tell my father about this. So it’s possible I will need more than a blowjob.”

“I’ll help in any way I can,” Patrick says, rolling his eyes.

“Um, also, that was a really lovely thing to say, apart from the overbearing signage part,” David says, meaning it. “But I would appreciate if you didn’t repeat it to anyone at Rose Corporation.”

“And how do you suggest I explain the sudden rise in profitability?” Patrick asks.

“The increased mental clarity that comes from a really good regular fuck?” David asks, biting his lower lip between his teeth.

“ _Very_ professional.”

“Mmhmm.”

“David-“ Patrick starts. David feels like he might shatter if Patrick says one more tender thing, so he cuts him off.

“Nope. Movie, pizza, blowjob. Let’s go.”

“David, the store doesn’t close for a half hour.”

“We’re closing now. Clearly you can afford it.”

\-----

They opt to pick up a pizza and eat during the movie. Patrick suspects David is trying to prevent them from having too much time to sit and talk about what this all means. For tonight, Patrick is okay with that.

“They didn’t even win the championship?” David asks when the credits roll.

“They won the next year.”

“But isn’t that the point of sports movies? It’s like all feel-good because they win?”

“They won the next year,” Patrick repeats, impatient. “It’s based on a true story.”

“Okay, but that’s like if at the end of _Sleepless in Seattle_ , Tom Hanks walks off with his kid and says to Meg Ryan ‘well, maybe we’ll see you here next year’ instead of that perfect reach of the hand. Who would watch that movie?”

“Do you want to do this right now?” Patrick asks. He’s seen _Friday Night Lights_ before, so his brain took the opportunity to spin out in all directions. He feels a little scattered. He’s not sure he can muster the wherewithal for a deep dive on cinematic plotting.

“Okay. So you’ve been prepared to die on this sports-movies-or-bust hill for six weeks and now you’re stepping down?”

“David, I want to talk about something. Something else.”

“Okay,” David says, confused and a little reluctant. “I thought we agreed to close it up-“

“No. Not that.”

“Okay.”

“There was a checkpoint I wanted to get to. With you. I thought we’d get there sooner but it’s been busy lately and there hasn’t been a great time to talk about it.”

“Oh,” David says. He isn’t positive, but they’ve been more or less moving in a logical progression, which means he can guess what’s next.

“I know we discussed a blowjob, but… we only have two nights left.”

“Okay,” David says. His palms start to sweat a little.

“I want to know what it’s like when you’re inside me,” Patrick says, quiet. Patrick may not be innocent, and he’s not particularly inexperienced anymore, but David loves the way he carefully packs his request at each new checkpoint into a shy allusion.

“So first, yes, very much like the sound of that. But. It’s not always… nice? The first couple times even can be, um-“

“I know. I research-“

“Researched, yes. You’re very studious.” David tips his head back and closes his eyes. This day has been one shocking turn of events after another and he just needs to think. David tries to find a way to explain himself without making it sound like he’s not on board.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Patrick says.

“It’s not that. I’m just a little worried that you won’t enjoy it, and then your lasting memory of me will be a cringy night of bad sex. And that’s really not on brand for me, so.” Patrick smiles. He loves that David is still so _David_ , even when he’s being vulnerable.

“Well luckily there’s still tomorrow for you to make a lasting impression.” Patrick leans over and kisses him. It’s not foreplay, it’s just playful.

“Oh, okay,” David says, laughing into it. “No pressure though.”

“Hey. I meant what I said. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. But if you want to, and you’re saying no just because you’re worried about what I’ll think of you tomorrow? Don’t. I will still find you somewhat tolerable tomorrow, just like I do now.”

“And there you go with that flattering talk that gets me _rrright_ in the mood,” David says, leaning into it.

“David, I want to feel your big, thick cock inside me. Is that better?” It’s that maybe-I’ll-do-the-dishes-now voice and yes, that works just fine.

“What have I done to you?” David asks, shaking his head.

“Not nearly enough,” Patrick says. This time, when he kisses him, it is foreplay.

David manages to press the power button on the TV as they shuffle their way past, kissing frantically and shedding clothing. The sudden termination of the soundtrack playing over the _Friday Night Lights_ title screen throws the barn into silence. They both pause.

“You’re sure?” David asks, hands running back and forth across Patrick’s shoulders. Patrick feels little fissions forming under his touch, like he’s breaking Patrick apart already and they’re not even horizontal.

“I’m sure.”

David smiles and Patrick kisses him slowly, thoroughly. Every time they reach a checkpoint, Patrick seems to need this. David gives everything to those kisses now, reassuring Patrick that even if this is all he wants to do, it will be enough.

They have the choreography down, they’ve just switched parts. They prepare and protect and David lines himself up. He’s gentle and slow, and still the pressure is overwhelming. But also he’s looking at Patrick with those eyes that feel like home, and so even though it’s not anywhere near perfect, it absolutely is. 

Later, after they’ve cleaned up, Patrick is clearly exhausted and a little sore, which is fine. David’s not in the mood to talk tonight. As Patrick is drifting off to sleep he tucks himself around David, more like a weighted blanket than an embrace.

“You okay?” David asks.

“M’okay,” he says drowsily. “Please stay.”

David’s not sure if he means stay the night or stay forever, not sure what he wants him to mean, so he replies simply:

“I’m right here.”

**17\. It’s No Trick to Make a Lot of Money… If All You Want is to Make a Lot of Money**

(Mr. Bernstein, _Citizen Kane_ )

Patrick and David have a plan for Thursday, their last full day together. That plan is blown up by 3.7%. Patrick spends half the morning on the phone with various connections from college, people Ray knows, anyone he can think of who might be able to give him some advice on whether or not this let-the-numbers-decide plan he invented in an attempt to keep David Rose around (he can admit that to himself at least if to no one else) is even a valid business transaction. He has something in writing from Rose Corp. about getting to keep the store and the name if they top 3%, but the name is a sticking point apparently and Patrick’s not sure he understands the ins and outs of it yet.

Patrick skipped his morning run and made good on the promised blowjob, but he hasn’t seen David since. He knows he was planning to go back to the motel and run triage. He expected to see him for lunch at least, but it’s three o’clock and nothing. Kelsey comes in and needs to watch _Citizen Kane_ for a project she’s doing at school, so Patrick lets her play it on the screens in the store.

 **Patrick, 3:01 p.m.** : I thought I’d see you for lunch.

There’s no answer for a long time.

 **David, 3:40 p.m.** : Sorry, been on the phone all day.

 **Patrick, 3:41 p.m.** : Everything okay?

 **David, 3:42 p.m.** : Yeah. Just normal Rose Family drama.

 **Patrick, 3:43 p.m.** : Kelsey’s here. I can come there if you want.

 **David, 3:46 p.m.** : I’m good. Dinner at 6?

 **Patrick, 3:46 p.m.** : I’ll pick you up.

 **David, 3:47 p.m.** : _[thumbs up emoji]_

They are normal messages, which is why they seem so odd. No scattered eggplant emojis. No joking. Patrick can’t shake the notion that something is very, very wrong. He wonders how he can find out without making it worse. In the end, it’s Stevie that finds him.

 **Stevie, 4:11 p.m.** : I think you should be here. Do you need me to watch the store?

 **Patrick, 4:11 p.m.** : No. On my way.

When Patrick arrives, David is sitting on the bed, knees to his chest, arms wrapped protectively around them. His eyes are red and puffy. Stevie is with him, but she leaves when Patrick arrives, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze.

“David-“

“Just sit with me for a minute, okay?” David asks. “I’ll explain in a little bit. I just-“

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m here,” Patrick says. He sits behind David and pulls him back so he can hold him tight to his chest. He’s quiet.

“You were supposed to stay at the store and I was supposed to be put back together for dinner so you didn’t see me like this.”

“Hey, this is kinda like the first night you came to my place,” Patrick says. “I saw you like this and I kissed you anyway the very next night. Would have kissed you the same night, but I thought it might make me seem unfeeling.”

“Hmm,” David says, a staccato exhale of a laugh.

“You want to talk about it?” Patrick asks.

“Well it seems the result of our little numbers game is that the Rose Corp. buyer is pulling out.”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really understand it. There was an explanation but it got lost somewhere in the earful I received about what a disappointment I am.”

“Wait, what?”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not fine. Your dad?”

“Yes. I mean I don’t think he meant to say it the way it sounded. He’s just scrambling to do damage control.”

“You asked if this agreement was okay, and then they wanted it in writing. How was this not considered a possibility?”

“It seems that my family assumed I would bring catastrophic failure to this little venture the way I have to all areas of my personal and professional life, and well, that would be problem solved. Apparently my self-sabotage button is broken and no one can believe it but me.”

“And me. David-”

“Hey, it’s fine. They’ll find another buyer. They’re just freaking out because they have to freeze some assets or something now. I don’t know. I really wasn’t thinking that the store doing well would mean this could happen to my family. I wasn’t even trying to make this happen. It just felt good to be useful to you.”

What the hell was Patrick supposed to say to that?

“I didn’t realize this would have that kind of impact on your family, David, or I never would have suggested it.”

“I know.”

“I mean, maybe I can buy the retail side. I can’t afford to buy it outright, but I could make payments or something. Especially if it released me from the franchise fees.”

“It’s something about branding. Among other things, the buyer wants the brand. Rose Video.”

“Oh. Why? I mean this quarter’s profits notwithstanding, it’s not exactly lucrative.”

“I don’t know. My dad conferenced his business manager in, but I didn’t understand half of what was said. It’s something about companies that like to buy brands that could be used to compete with them. It’s like I tried to say in the very beginning when they decided to send me to this godforsaken place. I’m not qualified to do this.”

That phrase, _godforsaken place_ , stings. Patrick knows David’s not exactly enamored with Schitt’s Creek, but he hoped he was making a dent in that. If he really feels that way, there’s no way he'll agree to stay. Assuming Patrick can ever get the balls to ask. He can't dwell on that right now.

“Okay. Listen, I’ve been on the phone all day too. Technically this is an agreement between me and him, not you and me, so I’ll get it figured out with him. You’ve been in the middle of this long enough. It will all work out somehow.”

“You shouldn’t have to fix this mess for me.”

“David, it’s not your mess. You got put into a difficult position. You didn’t do anything wrong. And I’m not going to tell your dad what you’ve done here the last six weeks because I said I wouldn’t. But if he knew, I can guarantee you he would never have called you a disappointment. I know what you did, and It's impressive. I'm proud to have done it with you.”

David doesn’t say anything for a long time. Patrick rests his chin in his hair, wraps his arms around his shoulders from behind, wishes he could see his face.

“Is it dinner time yet?” David asks.

“Sure,” Patrick says. It’s barely five o’clock.

\-----

They have dinner at Café Tropical. Twyla is friendly and oblivious at first, but even she seems to sense something is up and brings them a piece of chocolate cake on the house for dessert. When they get in the car at the end of the meal, David has perked up a little bit. David spent most of the last twenty four hours trying to steer them away from Rose Video as a topic. He wishes he hadn’t. Trials of today aside, Rose Video makes them both happy. It feels good to talk about it. And even though it’s made a mess of things with his family, he’s not going to let Patrick spend another minute feeling bad about 3.7%.

“You know what?” David says.

“What?”

“Today sucked. A lot of people who should have been happy for you were assholes. Including me. But we fucking did it. Rose Video is _thriving_ , and I think that needs to be celebrated.”

Patrick is quiet a long time, fingers tapping against the steering wheel as he considers. Patrick loves when David uses words like “ours” and “we” when he’s talking about the store. He’s been doing it all night. And just now. _We fucking did it._

“Okay.”

They stop and pick up zhampagne at the general store before heading back to Patrick’s. They talk for a little bit while they drink it. Reminisce. They’ve spent their entire time together in the shadow of a ticking clock, and this night is no exception. The ticking is deafening now. More or less by tacit agreement, once their glasses are emptied they move to the bed.

Afraid to put too much significance on this final, frenetic connection, David tries to lose himself in the sensations. Calloused hands kneading his arms, his chest, his back. A light brush of stubble against his most sensitive skin. Teeth and lips and the edge of a tongue everywhere he craves to feel them. Suction, deep and needy. Weight. Pressure. Power. A surge of heat from somewhere deep within. The quiet awareness of honey brown eyes boring into his until it’s too much and he has to look away. The overwhelming rush of warmth and safety and unbearable tenderness that radiates from the man who is unraveling him. It’s not like any of the other times with Patrick. It’s not like any other time with anyone.

Patrick, who is generally attentive during sex even when he’s in a hurry, feels like he needs to fold every sacred part of David into himself. It is at once a fragile goodbye and a fervent _please don’t go_. When they both come off the ledge together, trembling and spent, David feels like he’s been hallowed and hollowed, so that what’s left, the only thing that’s left, is the heat of Patrick’s breath filling him as he kisses him slowly back to earth.

**18\. Love... It Pricks Like Thorn**

(Romeo, _Romeo + Juliet_ )

Patrick spends Friday morning, the day David flies back to New York, lying in bed with him. He watches David sleep, his hair a dark shock against the pillow, and tries to keep the unbearable sadness at bay. He feels stuck. He’s been avoiding asking David to stay, knowing that if he says no, it will ruin their last days and hours together. Now, he worries he’s waited too long. That any request will seem as though he’s acting on impulse. Like he doesn’t really mean it.

David’s alarm goes off at 9:30 and they both get up. They’re quiet, not saying much, and when they do talk, they speak softly: no sudden moves. David has to go to the motel and pack up his luggage and have brunch with Stevie. He’ll meet Patrick at the store before he drives to the airport. They have not spoken much at all about how they want this to go, but all three times Patrick has asked David to at least let him drive him to the airport, David has said he doesn’t want some dramatic rom-com airport goodbye.

“As I’ve told you thrice now, we’re better than that,” he’d said.

David walks over from the café around one o’clock. He finds Patrick in the office, eating lunch. He smiles. He loves that Patrick is still so _Patrick_ , eating in back after the lunch rush, podcast playing on the computer speakers, like it’s just a normal day and not the end of the world. David can almost pretend they’re going to spend an afternoon teasing each other and arguing over movies, go back to his place for dinner, and fall into bed.

When David arrives, quietly tapping on the door to the office, Patrick doesn’t know how to start. He’s out of time. They go out to the front. The store is empty. It has been all morning. Patrick thinks the town must know this day is off limits, and for once they’re letting them have this moment all to themselves.

“Stay here with me,” Patrick says, without preamble. “Run the store with me.”

“What?” David asks. Part of him expected this in any number of moments leading up to this, but not in this one.

“David. I-“ Patrick pauses. “I don’t want to do this without you.” It’s not what he wants to say. But in this moment, tinged as it is with desperation, the word he most wants to say will feel like a weapon, and that’s not how Patrick wants to use it ever with David, much less for the first time.

“Patrick.”

“I never understood how this store fit into the plan for my life until you became a part of it. And it’s not just the store. David, you make everything right.”

David is crying. He’s pissed that this will be one of the last memories Patrick has of him, his eyes redder than the counter, surrounded by avocado green walls.

“Patrick,” he tries again. “You sat next to me in your kitchen and said this has an expiration date. That you understood. How can you ask me to leave my life behind when we both know you won’t want me this way in another month or two?”

“I don’t know that. Why do you assume I won’t want you? Have I not made it clear how much I- How much I’ll want you?”

“Everyone gets tired of me sooner or later. Sooner usually. That is my truth.”

“Well it’s a fucking lie,” he growls.

“This has been star-crossed from the beginning. If you’d let me take you through the Baz Luhrmann collection you would know that it doesn’t matter how good it is. When people are as different as you and me, good things always end badly.”

“Seriously, David? Baz Luhrmann? I vetoed exactly one movie in the entire time we’ve been together. Do you know why I didn’t want to watch _Romeo + Juliet_? I hate the ending. I don’t get why it’s romantic, much less enjoyable to watch. If Romeo had waited a fucking minute instead of jumping to conclusions, he would be living his own happily ever after. Let’s be smarter than that.”

“How would you feel if the tables were turned and I asked you to come to New York with me?” David asks. "Would you trust that I would still want you in two months, knowing what you know about me?"

He shouldn’t have said it. He really shouldn’t have said it. Thankfully, Patrick calls his bluff.

“What was the point of the last six weeks if I pack up and move to New York?”

“There isn’t one, I guess. Patrick, I am damaged goods. You deserve better. Let me go.”

Patrick doesn’t even know where to start with that. Resigned, he simply says, “If you won’t stay, I’ll let you go.”

They stand and watch each other warily: no sudden movements. David had a speech prepared about maybe staying in touch, but that seems woefully inadequate now.

So instead David tries to offer an apologetic smile through his tears and folds Patrick into a long hug. He can feel Patrick’s long shuddering breaths against his chest. He holds his face tenderly in his hands as he kisses him. And then they say goodbye at the same place they first said hello, next to the watermelon red counter in the last Rose Video.

**19\. I Wish I Had Done Everything On Earth With You**

(Daisey Buchanan, _The Great Gatsby_ )

The first thing David does, when he gets back to New York, is stop at Rose Corp. It’s located in midtown about part way up an anonymous mid-rise office tower built sometime in the 1950s. Johnny Rose is sitting at a large desk in the center of his office, looking over paperwork.

“David, welcome home, son,” Johnny says. He acts like he has no recollection of burying David with _I’m so disappointed in you_ just the day before, or _guess you'll have to grow up because I’m cutting you off_ two months ago for that matter. Which seems pretty true to form.

“First,” David starts, “You will sit down and walk me through every part of this buyout and divestiture.” He looked up the word on the plane on the way home. He hopes he’s pronouncing it right. “Second, you will keep me up to date before you make a decision, and I mean any decision, that has to do with Rose Video. Finally, if you do anything to hurt that man or his store, I will never speak to you again.”

Johnny Rose looks at David, openmouthed. He recognizes the man in front of him, but he’s nothing like the one he remembers. A small door closes between them, the one where they are parent and child. Another door opens, the one where they are father and son.

“If you’d like to sit down, David, I can fill you in.”

\-----

Patrick walks into the motel office, glad to see that Stevie is playing solitaire at the computer. It’s Sunday. It’s only been two days. It feels like it’s been a month. 

“Hey, Patrick. What can I do for you?”

He looks weary. That’s the best word for it. Weary. She attempts to tamper her sarcasm a bit.

“I need a room. Mutt’s coming back and my place isn’t ready yet.”

Mutt told Patrick he could stay at the barn until move-in day, but Patrick needs to get out of that barn and away from all the shadows of David. He can’t sleep there. It’s too damn quiet at night alone. And anyway, if there was ever a place custom-designed for wallowing in self-pity, it’s the Schitt’s Creek Motel.

“Okay, let me see what I have,” she says, switching over to her booking screen. “The executive suite is available all week. How many nights?” Okay, so she doesn’t totally tamper her sarcasm, but he laughs, which is what she's going for.

“I need six nights,” he says.

“Six nights in the executive suite. I’ll even throw in an extra set of towels.”

“Good. That will delay the inevitable crisis when you fail to deliver new ones.”

She smiles, but it makes them both think of David.

“Have you talked to him?” Patrick asks.

“Just texts. He misses you.”

“He said that?”

“I can just tell. He asks how you’re doing.” She trades him a room key for his credit card.

“He doesn’t ask me,” is all Patrick can say.

“Between his parents, his past, and all those movies he watches on loop, David’s understanding of love is pretty fucked up.”

“I know that. I just thought maybe we were getting somewhere with all of that.”

“Me too. So what are you doing here?”

Patrick looks down at the key and back up at her. There’s a tedious pause. He’s been teetering on the edge of this decision anyway. She’s just given him the slightest push in the direction he already wants to go.

“Let’s change the reservation to one night.”

She smiles. She almost seems choked up, which is very out of character for her.

“It’s on me,” she says, handing him back his card.

\-----

It’s been nine days since he left Schitt’s Creek. David nurses a whiskey at the bar of a little place in the basement of a Chelsea row house called The Dugout. He has no idea what the fuck he’s doing there. It’s not his scene. There’s no place left in this city that feels right.

David still has the Rose Video calendar linked to his phone. He misses the store almost as much as he misses Patrick. A reminder pops up that tonight Twyla is hosting a murder mystery party in the Rose Video Lounge. The theme is _The Great Gatsby_. Normally when these reminders pop up, it gives David a sense of connection to the store, to Patrick. But this one just reminds him of the way he’d stupidly fought with Patrick about Baz Luhrmann films on his last day there, so he turns the notifications off. 

When Alexis arrives, she sits next to him at the bar. She’s been looking for him for an hour.

“Oh my god, David. What is this place? It's like a sporty person gay bar. What are you doing here?”

David shrugs.

“Okay,” she says. Thankfully, she doesn’t press it.

“I heard Patrick agreed to let dad buy him out,” Alexis says. “Have you talked to him?”

“He what?” David asks. “No, they’re doing some kind of asset division or something.”

“Yeah. I was just at home. Dad was in his study and he said he just got the paperwork an hour ago. He was trying to find you.”

“I have to go,” David says. Then again, more urgently: “I have to go, Alexis.”

“I’m booking us a plane ticket to Thornbridge,” Alexis says. “I’ll send you the confirmation.”

“A plane ticket? I’m going to see dad.”

“I know. And then you and I are going to Schitt’s Creek.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I spent one afternoon there with you and Patrick, and it’s the happiest I’ve ever seen you in your life.”

David swallows. He’s nearly booked this ticket nine times in as many days. He keeps hoping something, or more accurately someone, will pull him back there. Maybe instead of waiting to be pulled, he should let himself be pushed.

“Okay, but why are you coming?” he realizes suddenly.

“Um, it’s just that I’ve been texting with Ted, David-“

“Mm-mm, nope, I don’t have time for this.” He says, waving his hands in the air as he shakes his head. Then he looks at her, his flighty, beautiful sister who’s buying them plane tickets to the middle of nowhere so they can both see the boys they like. “We can talk about it on the plane.”

The next few hours are a blur. He heads home, relieved to find his dad still in his study. There’s a purchase agreement in front of him. Patrick’s clear, looping script is already on the bottom of the agreement. There’s been a million little signs, a million moments since he returned to New York when he could have, should have realized that there’s only one thing he wants, that he’ll go wherever that is. But it’s that signature, Patrick Brewer, the way every letter is perfect and readable, that makes everything clear.

“Don’t fucking sign that,” David says to his father.

"I've been trying to call you, David. I promised I would talk to you before doing anything with the store, didn't I?"

“Okay. Good," David says, calmer. "You're not signing that. I have an idea.”

By the time David has finished ironing out the details with his father and hastily thrown some things in a bag – and if he needed any further proof that he has it bad for Patrick, that’s it for sure – he and Alexis have barely enough time to get to the airport.

**20\. I Got Dragged Into This Gig Kicking and Screaming, and Now It’s the Only Thing I Want to Do**

(Glenn Holland, _Mr. Holland’s Opus_ )

It’s been ten excruciating days. Patrick has been in New York for seven of them. He rode to the top of the Empire State Building, spiraled down the Guggenheim, floated past the Statue of Liberty, and biked across the Brooklyn Bridge. The rest of the time, he's just been walking. He walked past David’s gallery one night. He didn’t really care for the art he could see from the window. He stood at the base of the tower where the Rose Corp headquarters are located. He spent hours one night on the red stairs in Times Square above the TKTS booth, just watching the city whir around him, not sure what called him there. Now, Patrick is sitting at a basement bar in Chelsea called The Dugout, which Google told him was a gay sports bar, three words Patrick never realized could be combined to commercial success. It’s his own ignorance, not the premise of the bar, that makes him roll his eyes. What even was this city? He can see why David likes it, the energy, the commotion, the endless corners to explore. And of course the food.

Before David, Patrick would have walked into this bar, seen the men snuggled together in a booth wearing shorts and Yankees caps, and thought he’d found his people. Now he knows his person wears monochromatic high fashion and couldn’t catch a sports metaphor if it landed in his Karl Lagerfeld gloves. Which is interesting, but maybe not surprising, considering he’s spent his whole life around sport-loving guys without understanding such a key piece of himself.

He’s not really listening to Ken, a good-looking shorter guy in a tight polo with beautiful skin who’s been flirting with him for the last ten minutes. He flirted back a little, just to try it, but it ends up reminding him of David and now he’s stuck with Ken and this story he’s half listening to about his ill-fated attempt to meet Richard Dreyfuss.

_“You’re a terrible flirt,” David said, making Patrick laugh. “I had no idea that’s what you were doing.”_

_“What do you mean? Teasing without malice is like flirting 101.”_

_“Maybe in sixth grade, Patrick. Adults tend to be a little more explicit.”_

_“Wasn’t the porn box explicit enough?”_

_“Maybe.” Just the memory of Patrick casually talking about penalty boxes while surrounded by porn has David getting handsy._

_“I guess you’ll have to teach me about flirting too, then” Patrick replied primly, tracing a line up David’s bare hip._

_David didn’t have to teach him how much he loves to be touched there. Patrick figured that out, and pretty much everything else David likes, by watching David come apart when he tries it._

_“I’m not teaching you how to flirt. You’re mine now,” David growled possessively, and then froze, realizing what he’d said._

_Patrick just kissed him, burying the bare truth in need and affection like they had so many other times._

Too many other times, Patrick realizes now. Nestled as they were in ground rules and checkpoints protecting their physical interactions, they’d forgotten to guard their emotional responses. Real feelings had been allowed to take root. If they’d talked about it any of those times too much was said, or felt, out loud, maybe they would have had time to make a plan. Maybe he would be sitting here with David, laughing and teasing him, instead of trying to sound interested in this story of how _Mr. Holland’s Opus_ inspired Ken to become a sign language interpreter. It’s not a bad story, it’s just missing a certain embellishment he’s come to crave.

His phone vibrates on the warm wood surface of the bar and he glances at it briefly, then again in disbelief.

“I’m sorry,” Patrick says to Ken, standing up and throwing a twenty towards the bartender. “Your drink’s on me. I have to take this.”

Patrick waves his phone in explanation and leaves feeling a little bad, but not that bad really because David Rose is calling him.

“Where are you?” David asks when he answers.

“What do you mean?” Patrick asks. David sounds mad and Patrick is wondering if it’s about the sale.

“I’m standing in front of Rose Video, having flown here _coach_ on the first flight I could get, because business class was sold out, and Connor is telling me you haven’t been here for almost a week and a half. I already went by the barn where a half-naked Mutt and Twyla said you left town, and let me tell you that is something you can’t unsee. Also, I don’t want to alarm you, but there is a very graphic B horror movie playing in the store, which seems not exactly on brand. If you’re not here to see to these things, then all my hard work is going to waste.”

“You’re in Schitt’s Creek?” Patrick asks, desperately trying to shield the little flare of hope in his chest from roaring to life.

“Yes. To see you. But you’re not here. So.”

“David-“ Patrick starts, but he doesn’t know how to finish.

“Where are you, Patrick?”

“I’m in New York.”

“What?!” Patrick can practically hear his facial expression. “What the fuck are you doing in New York?”

“I missed you. I didn’t like the way we left things.”

“But Connor said you’ve been gone since Thursday.”

“I wanted to see it first. To see if I liked it. If I thought I could see myself here. I didn’t want to come after you if I couldn’t put me moving here on the table for us.”

“Patrick,” he says softly, “Is this what the sales agreement was about?”

“You saw that?”

“Yes. I’m Rose Corp.’s most promising up-and-coming employee after all,” David jokes, and the hope in Patrick’s chest explodes.

“Well I’m not running the place from here. Might as well get some money for it so your dad can go back to his buyer.”

“So let me get this straight,” David says. Patrick can hear the smile. “Without talking to me, you recklessly agreed to sell the store you love and planned to show up in New York in hopes I would take you in?”

“Something like that.”

“Well that’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” David says. Patrick laughs, standing on the sidewalk in Chelsea on a warm summer evening. David laughs with him, staring at Rose Video in Schitt’s Creek, the sun setting swiftly, the sign glowing red.

“I haven’t had a plan go right since I met you, David Rose. I’m just winging it at this point.”

“You won’t like it there. I don’t even like it there anymore,” David says.

“It’s not so bad,” Patrick says. “I’d be willing to try it.”

“Well I’ll be disappointed if you do. I sort have my heart set on running a mildly successful video store in a Schitty little town with you.” Patrick laughs, and then he remembers.

“Oh no!” he says. “David, we have to call your dad. The sales agreement. I already signed it.”

“I already took care of that. Honestly Mr. Brewer I’m not sure how you managed to keep the place afloat for two years before you had me to help you.”

“So the agreement…”

“In the shredder. We have some decisions to make. I’ll tell you about it when you get here. And I’m really pissed we’re doing this on the phone, because I had a whole dancing, lip syncing thing prepared to make up for the way I acted in the store that last day. Since you’re not here, I’ll have save that for the next time I really fuck this up.”

“I can’t wait,” Patrick says. He’s grinning ear to fucking ear. “But I just want to make sure I understand. You, as a successful adult, decided to move to a town called Schitt’s Creek, where they apparently keep rat-infested mattresses permanently available on the side of the road, to partner in a moderately successful video rental establishment, entirely by choice?”

There’s a low chuckle as David hears his own words from that first week parroted back to him.

“Patrick?”

“Yes, David?”

“Come home.”

\-----

It’s a lazy Tuesday, the one day they both have off every week. It’s been busy the last two months since Patrick’s trip to New York. David is renting Ray’s extra room, but he mostly uses it as a closet for his clothes. Most nights he’s here, at Patrick’s. He especially makes a point to be here Monday nights, so they can linger in bed Tuesday morning on the one day Patrick allows himself to disregard his morning routine entirely.

The finalized incorporation papers arrived the day before. Between Johnny, David, Patrick, and a bunch of lawyers, Rose Corp. has undergone a lengthy succession plan, one centered around divesting Rose Video to David and Patrick and arranging for the piecemeal sale of Johnny’s other investments. It won’t result in nearly the amount of money they would have received from the original buyer, but Johnny Rose is thrilled to see his empire, or at least the one piece that’s left of it, continue with his son. He’s a little skeptical about David and Patrick being romantically in business together (a phrase David has told him he is never allowed to say again), but seeing the way they work together, he’s coming around. They’ll have enough for Johnny and Moira to be very comfortable for the rest of their days, which is all that really matters to Johnny. Moira still needs some convincing. After the way the gallery fell apart, David refused to accept any part of the transaction as a gift. Now everyone is in the process of arranging a payment structure. David’s doing his best to keep up with everything, but he doesn’t really have a business brain. Thankfully, he has a Patrick.

“You know David, we still have to decide which one of us is the CEO,” Patrick says as he tickles the back of David’s thigh where it’s flung over his own. He gets a playful kick from David’s heel. “I was thinking, if this quarterly number is 4% or higher, then I’m the CEO. If it’s lower, then you’re in charge.”

“That’s cute, what you just did, but I don’t want to be the CEO. I just want to be the one who picks the paint colors and makes the signs,” David says. Patrick laughs. “And decides what movies we play in the store. And maybe the one who gets to hire some staff people who actually like me.”

“Okay, David,” Patrick says. “You can be in charge of that stuff. But I guess that means I get to be the one who bosses you around.”

“If you must,” he says, eyes narrowed, grin wide. Since they’re already in bed and naked, it just makes sense to stay that way.

**Epilogue**

**Having Dreams is What Makes Life Tolerable**

(Pete, _Rudy_ )

At the end of that second quarter, their profits are just over four percent. It doesn’t matter, because they’re using a partnership structure. They’re both in charge. David sometimes calls Patrick boss for fun, but usually only in bed. They don’t use quarters to make decisions anymore, but they keep track as each one passes.

Patrick serenades David at one of their Open Mic Nights to celebrate their third quarter together. David tries to get out of it. He has successfully avoided those nights each and every month, saying he will not be able to help Bob day in and day out if he is forced to witness him doing beat poetry. But since Patrick can be just as stubborn as David when he wants to be, he manages to finagle an Open Mic Night when Bob and Gwen are at their cabin, and David has no excuse. David has heard Patrick sing in the shower or along to the radio, occasionally hum while he plucks his guitar, but it’s nothing like this. It’s one of his favorite songs, a song that seems like it was written with them in mind, although maybe it’s the other way around since the song is about as old as they are. Patrick is singing to David over a crowd of people. They’re alone in the room. The night also features a couple of Jazzagals and a horrific improv troupe and stand-up comedy from Ronnie that turns into an informal roast of Roland, and David has never been happier in his life. Later that night, David takes a red-handled broom out of Patrick’s hand as they’re cleaning up and pulls him in for a bone-crushing kiss.

“I love you,” he says and then inhales, like he’s really breathing for the first time in his life. Patrick has said those words exactly once before, a week earlier. He knew David wasn’t ready to say it, but David was catastrophizing and he thought maybe David needed to hear it, so he said it first and tried to be okay with it being one-sided for a while. After David says it, they leave the rest of the clean-up for the morning.

Sometime after that – he can’t remember when exactly – David stops thinking of Schitt’s Creek as a godforsaken town to which he’s voluntarily exiled himself for love, and starts thinking of it as home.

\-----

At the end of the fourth quarter, Patrick gives David a giant heart-shaped cookie with frosted lines dividing it into fourths. It’s a little ridiculous but the cookie is soft and David eats half of it on the way to work. When he gets there, Patrick gives David a framed copy of their partnership agreement. The expressive scrawl of David’s signature, where only the D and R are remotely legible, next to the clear looping curves of Patrick’s tidy script, is the perfect representation of why their partnership works so well. They hang it in the office next to the _Mighty Ducks_ poster.

At the end of the fifth quarter, Patrick gives David a doormat that says DON’T. It’s not exactly the sentiment Patrick wants at his front door, but it just feels like David. It's the perfect manifestation of the way David guards their private space from everyone but Stevie, and Alexis when she insists. It comes with a shy question: “Would you be interested in getting a place with me?” It takes them the entire quarter to find a place that meets enough of David’s requirements, but finally they have a place that’s theirs. Alexis comes for a visit and she and Ted help them move in. Alexis perches on the edge of their couch and tells Ted where to move the boxes. She stays with Ted while she’s in town.

At the end of the sixth quarter, Patrick gives David an untinted gallon of paint. He tells him they have the money if he wants to mood board a new color scheme for the store. They try to do the painting themselves until they realize they’re not getting much actual painting accomplished and making a mess in the process. Patrick finds a little more money and hires Ronnie to finish the job. When there’s a scuffle about how long it’s taking, Patrick has to offer free rental of Rose Video Lounge for three months to get back in her good graces. Again.

David plans the new interior color scheme around the red countertop. It’s part of the store, he decides. Part of their story. He divides the store up into more clear zones so the gaming consoles and the arcade machines and the videos have a little buffer, so the store owners can have a private conversation without Bob overhearing. The walls are a warm gray now, the furniture is a little more modern, the old placards and signs completely replaced with David’s hand-drawn graphics, but David keeps the lived-in, retro vibe. He wants the store to feel like both of them.

After more than a year of trying, Patrick finally finds a sports movie David likes. It’s _Rudy_. They watch it three times in six days before they reshelve it. Patrick has no idea what about it appeals to David, but it's a nice break from all the Julias they usually watch.

\-----

It’s seven quarters when Johnny and Moira finally come to visit the last Rose Video. It’s Johnny’s first time at store B13 since he visited Carl for the opening forty years before. At Patrick’s insistence, he and David have visited New York a few times over the past year. Things between David and his parents are getting better slowly. David learns how to establish boundaries with his parents that let him love them without hating himself.

Johnny likes Patrick. They have a lot in common, a lot to talk about. Moira is harder to read. To no one’s surprise, she despises Schitt’s Creek, but Patrick thinks she likes him well enough now that she’s finally stopped calling him Peter.

“He _sees_ you,” he overhears her say to David one morning as they talk quietly on the porch in front of their home.

David and Patrick drive them back to the airport in Thornbridge, and David gives them tight hugs.

“I love you, son,” his dad says. “We’re enormously proud of everything you’ve done here.”

“I love you, too,” David says. It’s so much harder to say to his father than it is to Patrick, but it’s not impossible like it used to be.

\-----

At eight quarters, they take the a much-needed vacation. After a break to figure things out, Alexis's relationship with Ted turned serious, and she moved to Schitt’s Creek. She agrees to watch the store while they’re gone. Connor is on summer break from college and agrees to keep an eye on things too. Neither one knows the other has been left in charge. If Rose Video is going to survive the week, redundancy is key. The Roses still have the Paris apartment, and Patrick has managed to convince Johnny that he can go without the AirBNB proceeds for eight days.

Every day in Paris is a debacle. It rains and rains. The apartment water turns inexplicably brown at least once a day. Patrick loses his phone and subsequently David in the Louvre and spends the day at the guest services counter until it occurs to David to look for him there. Thankfully in the process of looking for Patrick, David found Patrick’s phone. David steps in a load of manure at Versailles after a special mounted parade event and has to spend the day in Patrick’s mountaineering shoes, the lesser of two evils. Patrick obligingly wears a pair of red, white, and blue flip flops they purchased at the gift shop that say “Vive La France!” in bold letters across the straps. Sometimes he still wears them around the house, just to teasingly remind David that for all his trepidation surrounding livestock in Schitt’s Creek, his Rick Owens high tops met their end in a pile of purebred European horse shit. He hasn’t seen those flip flops in a while. It’s possible David finally threw them out.

Patrick tries for a do-over and surprises David with a bike tour of a French chateau the following day. They’re about forty minutes from Paris in a tiny country town and it takes less than thirty seconds of wobbling before David is forced to come clean that he has never learned to ride a bike.

“This is why we shouldn’t do surprises,” David says.

They don’t get to see much of the chateau, but David learns a new skill.

When it’s time to come home, they get on the train going the wrong direction, headed away from the airport instead of towards it. By the time they get switched around, they nearly miss their flight.

“This trip couldn’t have gone worse if Alexis was with us,” Patrick quips once they’re safely on the plane.

“We’re not home yet,” David warns.

David does manage to convince Patrick to buy a pair of slightly-better-than-mid-range denim at a menswear boutique on Boulevard Saint Germain. He also found a sweater for himself at a knitwear atelier nearby, so the trip isn’t a total waste.

Once they’re finally home, David concludes that a life of relative peace and quiet in Schitt’s Creek is about as perfect as it gets. He’s never been more sure who he wants to spend it with.

\-----

At nine quarters, which is also Patrick’s birthday, David surprises Patrick with a trip to visit Clint and Marcy in Hawthorne Ridge. Clint and Marcy have visited a few times since Patrick told them about David. Clint likes David a lot. He’s on the fence about his clothes. Marcy adores everything about him. There’s a backyard barbecue to celebrate Patrick’s birthday and Patrick’s cousins and friends meet David for the first time. Just like in Schitt’s Creek, David wears designer fashion from head to toe, including his skirted pants, without any consideration for their bucolic setting, and Patrick loves him for it.

Rachel is still close to the Brewers. She brings her husband to the barbecue after asking Patrick if it’s okay that they come. She has a toddler running around with Patrick’s cousins’ kids and a round bump under her cotton dress. It’s not as weird as either of them thought it would be to see her there, living the life she was supposed to have with Patrick except with someone who feels exactly right. Patrick is so happy for her. And seeing her, happy and married and settled and right, has him thinking more about the life he’s meant to have. The life he wants to have.

\-----

It’s almost ten quarters when Patrick suggests they go for a hike. They have a soft launch planned for the second location in Thornbridge the next weekend. They’re regularly turning nearly five percent in profits now. They’ve both been stressed getting the new store ready, trying to give it the same patina the other Rose Video has naturally, the same sense of the hyper-local. The only elements that are exactly the same as the Schitt’s Creek location are a watermelon red laminate checkout counter and, above it, a print of Johnny Rose and Carl Currie standing in front of Rose Video store B13 with a ’78 Lincoln.

“A hike!?” David says, baffled when Patrick suggests it. “No one who’s known me for more than five minutes has ever invited me on an outdoor adventure. You’ve known me for a lot longer than that. Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Patrick just smiles fondly. It’s a smile David’s seen a thousand times now, a smile that he now knows simply means _I love you_.

“I think most people underestimate you, David. I’d like to think I don’t.”

And because that’s one hundred percent true, because Patrick is the only person who has never once underestimated David, he agrees to join Patrick on the hike. 

\-----

“So I’ve been thinking,” Patrick starts, “that our quarter’s up in three weeks.”

“Mmhmm, that’s nice,” David replies, not really listening. There’s cheese and crackers and he’s just climbed to the top of a fucking mountain. David admits he did a fair amount of unnecessary bitching on the way up, but it’s hard to argue with the view or the company of the man he loves lounging next to him in the sun.

“It’s our best quarter to date, I think,” Patrick says.

“It’s hardly a surprise people spend more time at the store now that the walls don’t induce seizures,” David says matter-of-factly, crunching a cheese and cracker stack between his teeth.

“True,” Patrick says, trying to be patient with David. He should have known better than to try to get into this before the food was gone. He stops talking and David senses a shift in his mood.

“Still worried about another location?” David asks. He can see now that there’s something Patrick wants to talk about. He doesn’t understand why he’s being so weird about it, but he sets his small plastic plate aside.

“It’s not that.” Seeing he has David’s attention now, Patrick pushes forward. “But I was thinking, if at the end of the quarter our profits are five percent or higher, we could get married in the fall.”

David drops the rest of his cracker on the ground.

“And if it’s lower?” he asks.

“If it’s lower, we might need more time to save up, so we might have to wait and get married next spring.”

His face crumples into a kind of crying laugh that brings tears to Patrick’s eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“Easiest decision of my life,” Patrick says, his own brave smile starting to crumple too.

Patrick adjusts from his sitting position to put his weight on one knee.

“I’m really glad you showed up at my store that day and tried to ruin my life, David Rose. I think you might have saved it. Will you marry me?”

Patrick pulls a long box out of his pocket – David’s never going to doubt the utility of cargo pants again – and opens it.

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes.” It’s a yes for each ring.

Patrick stands and David pulls him in tight.

“Do we really have to wait until the end of the quarter to pick a date?” David asks.

“No,” Patrick huffs into his neck. “I’ll marry you tomorrow if you want.”

\-----

Between the two stores, they turn a six percent profit and get married in the fall. They’re too busy planning the wedding to do much for quarter eleven but a nice dinner. Patrick does bring David flowers at the store to start the day and lifts the rules so they can fool around in the office. They’ll only be fiancés for a few months, and it’s their store. They can do what they like.

The wedding is two days after quarter twelve ends. Patrick has a whole plan for their wedding that he likes to tease David about, involving a _Die Hard/Pretty Woman_ theme. It’s a hard pass from David. Patrick is just fine with that, because at the end of the day all he wants is to make David his husband and celebrate with their friends and families. Patrick has still never seen _Pretty Woman._ Neither of them has seen more than a quarter of _Die Hard_.

After the wedding, Patrick agrees to limit milestone-related gifts and surprises to once a year on their wedding anniversary.

Their profit margins level off, which is expected. They’re still good, but they won’t be buying a yacht anytime soon. David manages to keep himself in designer fashion through consignment apps and online auctions. It will take some doing to maintain a video rental business into the twenty-first century, even one that makes the majority of its money through community events, but they’re comfortable. Stable. Sturdy, even.

The quarters do start to blend together after that.

\-----

David walks through the front door of Rose Video store B13 on a sunny afternoon on the last day of their twentieth quarter. They may not have quarterly celebrations anymore, but tonight David’s hoping he can surprise his husband with pizza and a movie and maybe a blowjob. _Rudy_ , he thinks, for the movie. It’s been awhile since they’ve seen it. He’s been gone for the better part of the week, traveling to their other locations. There are six of them now, and it’s as big as they want it to get for the time being, maybe forever. The newer ones have more community space, which is more work to organize space rentals and coordinate events. The Elm Valley Rose Video has a twenty-person screening room that is always booked. The Rose Video in Hawthorne Ridge has a recording booth that hosts a local independent radio station. David can’t keep up with the signage needs, so he collaborates with local artists. It takes a lot of time and energy coordinating vendors and artists and staff for those locations. It’s been a long week.

Patrick smiles from behind the checkout counter where he’s running the quarterly numbers on his laptop. When he sees David remove his sunglasses and look around the place, it reminds him of the way Dana Cruise entered the store for the first time more than five years before.

They exchange a soft hi before Patrick lets his husband bury him in a long, slow kiss, store rules be damned. David smiles as he feels Patrick’s lips press briefly against his neck on the way in for a tight hug. He’s finally feeling like maybe he deserves this man. In any case, he’s never letting go.

He’s been to five Rose Videos in as many days. They’re all a little different except for the red counter and the old photograph. All the locations are a mix of David and Patrick and the town where they’re located. This one though, the first Rose Video, is the only one that always feels like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you'd like to have it, here's a list of all the movies referenced in this story, available today at your local Rose Video:  
> Jerry Maguire  
> Glengarry Glen Ross  
> The Mighty Ducks  
> Love Actually  
> Bridget Jones’s Diary  
> 10 Things I Hate About You  
> Manhattan  
> Die Hard  
> The Wizard of Oz  
> Pretty Woman  
> Notting Hill  
> Brokeback Mountain  
> Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back (and the rest of the Star Wars franchise)  
> All About Eve  
> Back to the Future  
> Friday Night Lights  
> Sleepless in Seattle  
> Citizen Kane  
> Romeo + Juliet (Baz Luhrmann version)  
> The Great Gatsby (Baz Luhrmann version)  
> Mr. Holland’s Opus  
> Rudy


End file.
